7Eleven
by Lyra500
Summary: All-human AU. Stressed single mother Buffy Summers makes a late night run to her local 7Eleven when she crashes into a handsome man with attitude. At first affronted by her dismissal, Spike delights when he realises she had no idea who he is.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I've published before under another name in other genres but this is my first public post in the Buffyverse so be nice. This is currently a one-shot but don't rule out a sequel. I've spell-checked it and proof read it but it hasn't been past a beta so any remaining mistakes are my own.

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.

3am at the 7Eleven.

It was three o'clock on Thursday morning at the Seven-Eleven on the highway at the edge of Sunnydale and Buffy Summers was sure she was going crazy. She knew she looked terrible. Her hair was all over the place, she was wearing no make up and she had thrown on the first thing she could find – a mismatching jogging top and pants that she was sure made her look more like a homeless drug addict than a hard working single mother. Buffy scratched at her tired, itchy eyes and wrapped her tracksuit top tighter around herself. Wearing a bra wouldn't have been a terrible idea either. It was time for her son's night time feed about now, but instead of sitting rocking him in their bedroom she was standing in crumpled ill-fitting clothes in the drugs aisle of the Seven Eleven a mile from her home.

She scanned the shelf again and decided that Seven Eleven stores must be designed by childless men, because if a single mother had designed this store baby teething gel would have a pink neon sign above it, right next to a giant freezer of Ben and Jerry's.

Finally after searching the display for the fourth time her eyes found what she wanted and in the harsh florescent lighting of the store she was able to read the tiny print on the back that informed her the product was indeed suitable for babies and children. If only she didn't have to pay the extortionate price the shelf displayed, but at that moment she cared more about sleep than her growing financial problems and she was pretty sure her part-time babysitter and full-time sister Dawn would feel the same. Guilt welled up at the fact that Dawn would have to go to school tomorrow after yet another night of reduced sleep.

Financial problems or not Dawn and her deserved ice-cream. Everything was better with ice-cream. Buffy checked the slim billfold in her pocket and decided she could afford it if she took a packed lunch tomorrow instead of buying something. If Dawn could buy some of her own school things life would be so much easier. She really was going to have to talk to her sister about getting a Saturday job.

Buffy yawned widely and sleepily shuffled along the aisle and across the store towards the freezer section. Cookie dough or chocolate fudge? It was a difficult choice warranting much consideration, but on balance the one with a higher concentration of chocolate won out and she whipped open the door and grabbed a pint of chocolate fudge, totally not noticing the blond man a few feet away walking along in a daze until the door Buffy threw open crashed into his face.

"Bloody hell!"

Buffy jumped at the nearby cry and whipped around to find a man with shocking white-blond hair staggering backwards clutching his nose between his hands and swearing like a foul-mouthed sailor. Buffy looked at the freezer door still clutched in her hand and quickly shut it. Apparently sleepy-Buffy plus freezer-aisle equaled danger to other passing shop patrons.

"I come in here for smokes and you break my fucking nose!" The blond swore in a British accent. Buffy stood frozen, staring at him and tried not to drool. How could Blondie here look handsome and sexy at 3am? He was only wearing jeans and a t-shirt that looked about three sized too small and was ripped in several places, while she knew she looked as far from sexy as it was possible for her to get.

Spike though was oblivious to her gawking. He gripped his nose and tried not to scream with pain. That had been a bloody a hard blow and he'd be damned if whoever had just hit him was going to get off scot free! He blinked furiously, trying to see enough through the tears of pain to aim a decent punch at his assailant. He swiped his watering eyes to clear them and blinked his eyes open expecting to find, well, anything but the tiny slip of a girl standing backed up against a freezer door with an embarrassed and guilty look on her face.

"I'm sorry," The young woman sighed in irritation, as if she knew there was a confrontation coming. "I was in a hurry, I opened the door without looking."

Well he couldn't very well hit a girl, could he? Instead he concentrated on checking out the damage to himself and as the pain subsided he shifted his facial muscles tentatively and carefully touched his nose in several places. Maybe not broken, thank God, but definitely painful. Bloody hell that had hurt! He could just imagine the headline:_ 'WereWolf cancel last tour dates: Spike's nose broken by freezer door.' _Their manager would have had his balls if he broke his nose before the tour wrapped up in Los Angeles this weekend!

"In your defense?!" Spike exclaimed. "You nearly broke my sodddin' nose! Do you have any idea how much money that would've lost me?!"

Buffy paused, waiting until he had her full attention and then dragged a scathing eye over the clothes. On second glance they were obviously designer and not exactly available at the nearest mall. Might even be one of a kind. Whoever this man was _he _wasn't going to go hungry if _his_ pay didn't come through on Friday.

Spike felt her eyes drift over his body and couldn't help feeling a bit of masculine pride. Even at this ungodly hour he knew he looked good. He tilted his head sideways, watching her and waiting for his reaction. Her eyes rose and rose until they settled on his face and for a moment he was floored. Her hair was messy, her clothes ill-fitting and the bags under her eyes told a story of more than one night without sleep, but all that was forgotten in an instant when the most stunning pair of hazel green eyes he had ever seen fixed him with a heated, passionate glared and shone back at him in righteous indignation. It was the most honest reaction he'd had from anybody in as long as he could remember and her passionately angry glare had a rather unexpected effect upon him. Spike felt himself getting hard. There was something about this girl...and _those eyes_...

Spike crashed back to Earth with start when the little sprite opened her mouth and started yelling him out.

"Oh I'm sorry Mr Haute-Couture-T-Shirt, this minimum-wage earning single-mother feels terrible for you!" Spittle flew at him with the young woman's angry words, the fury welling up inside Buffy coming all the more quickly because of the fraught emotions and exhaustion that had been building all week. She turned her back to him and stalked off to the top of the store to pay. The sooner she got out of the store and got back home the better. She would have to get up for work in less than four hours and she wasn't even in bed yet. What sort of baby started teething at four months anyway? Sometimes Buffy was sure her son was some strange demon-child. All the books said six months. Six months was normal wasn't it? Was four months abnormal?

Across the store, Spike stared after her, stunned into silence at her outburst. _'Bitch!_' He thought to himself. She hadn't even apologized...but he hadn't really been looking where he was walking had he? Besides, the poor girl had obviously had a bad day. Or night. Or week. If she really was the minimum-wage earning single mother she claimed to be she probably did have the moral high ground – and a great need for Ben & Jerry's ice cream, apparently.

She was hot when she was angry though!

Spike watched her from a distance, knowing his mother would have scolded him if she could have seen his behavior now. Sure, his nose hurt like bloody buggering hell but his it was neither bleeding nor broken and would most likely be fine in a minute or two. Already the pain was dulling a bit, and he'd been wound so tightly from the long tour and endless hours on the bus that he'd blown up in her pretty little face.

He really should apologize to the lady with the pretty green eyes for his ungentlemanly behaviour, he decided. Hadn't his mother raised him a gentleman?

Nothing whatever to do with her pretty green eyes, the fact she looked hot when she was angry, the delicate features of her face, or the way he was drawn by the petite womanly form he could make out beneath the baggy clothes she had obviously pulled on to run to the store.

Most of all it was absolutely and definitely nothing to do with the fact that after years of everyone he met pandering to him and bending over backwards to please him the little lady marching up the store had thrown her anger in his face in a display of emotion that was refreshingly genuine, and hot. Had he mentioned hot? Spike grinned for a moment. Okay, so that last one most of all.

"Oi! Where're you goin'?" He started after her.

Buffy rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air. What was with this guy? First he had to look totally gorgeous in his designer clothes and sleep-addled hair when she looked like a sometime tramp and wasn't even wearing a bra. And what was with that whole bleached hair thing? No one bleached their hair anymore.

"I'm going to pay, if that's alright with you." Buffy stomped off towards the bored college kid in the corner who was engrossed in a porn magazine splayed out on the counter. Buffy dumped her two items. The kid behind the counter started ringing them through without even appearing to look up. Buffy guessed he was probably sporting a hard on and was too embarrassed to look up and meet her gaze. Suddenly she felt a presence behind her and she knew it was the fancy t-shirt guy again.

"Didn't mean it like that! Was actually goin' to apologize for bein' a git but if you're gonna get all self-righteous about it-" Spike dumped a pack of his favourite smokes on the counter along with a twenty dollar bill. The kid put the the cigarettes through and rang up the till, picking up the twenty Spike had deposited.

"Hey!" Buffy turned and glared at him when she realized what he'd done.

"What?" Spike grabbed the bag and of goods and grunted at the kid to keep the change. Spike hoped he could rush the lady with Pretty Green Eyes out the store before the college kid looked up and started wagging his tongue. He turned around and began walking to the door and predictably Green Eyes followed him with hurried steps.

"You can't just pay for my stuff like that!" Buffy shouted after him as she tried to catch up with his long, ground-eating strides. "So what if I don't earn much? I'm not a charity case!"

"Never said you were," Spike opened the door for the lady to walk out first. He liked this girl. Hardly anyone ever talked to him straight any more. It was all awed looks and pleading for attention. Green Eyes as he'd decided to call her crossed her arms and stood there stubbornly refusing to go out the door. Spike rolled his eyes and exited first. Bloody womens' lib. Couldn't even be polite these days without offending some chick! Desperate for a smoke he opened the bag and took out his box of cigarettes. The bag was snatched from his grasp by the little blonde almost as soon as he'd got his smokes out but he didn't care. He tapped the box against his palm a few times and then opened the small carton and picked out a stick of tobacco.

"You know those'll kill you right?"

Spike lit the cigarette and took in a long deep breath and then blew it out. "Just as well I've got healthcare then."

Buffy coughed and waved her hand to try and shoo away the cloud of smoke he'd just exhaled. "Well for God's sake keep it away from those of us who rely on drug stores and the E.R. Room!"

"Free country!" Spike insisted indignantly, enjoying the flare of angry passion in her green eyes. "You don't like it go elsewhere."

"You think I'm just gonna walk away after you paid for my stuff like that?"

"_Bloody hell_!!" Spike threw his arms in the air. "What the sodding hell is your problem?! I was _trying _to be nice." Spike walked away and then turned sharply back on himself and started pacing in front of a bemused Buffy.

He passed under a streetlight and Buffy thought he looked remarkably like that singer Dawn used to have a crush on. It was probably the bleached hair, that was all. Buffy realized she'd been staring for too long when Spike stopped pacing and suddenly addressed her. breaking her little daydream.

"What?"

"You know for someone with such expensive clothes you go a long way to make yourself look like a leery drunk off the street!" Buffy groused at him, unwilling to admit he had once more been gawking at this man she was supposed to be angry with.

"Oh? Can't a bloke dress like a punk and still be a gentleman?"

Buffy let out a hollow laugh. "Not in Sunnyhell."

Sunnyhell. That was what the road sign had said as they came off the freeway, graffiti-ed over the town's real name 'Sunnydale'. He had to admit the parts he'd seen had looked a bit run down.

Spike tilted his head and settled an assessing gaze on the woman before him. She didn't look that old – not past her mid-twenties – and yet she was tired and stressed and bitter from life. She'd said she was a single mother, he remembered, and only earned the minimum wage which meant she had a kid somewhere and worked a crappy job with long hours and little sleep. Yet underneath all of that Spike sensed she was passionate and intelligent and she was refreshingly 'tell it like it is' with a side helping of cynicism. So what if she had a kid? Loads of people were single parents these days and she was pretty.

He wondered if there was any way of persuading her to let him see her again. Preferably some place comfortable and quiet with good food that was actually made fresh instead of pre-prepared made-for-the-road food that had been packaged up too long ago and tasted of preservatives. Somewhere where there were no band-mates waiting on a bus at the far side of the parking lot to tease him about chatting up some bird he'd met at an all night store at 3am.

Meanwhile Buffy was getting increasingly uncomfortable under his sympathetic gaze. She didn't need pity or charity, she needed a boss who wasn't a total jerk and a night or two with someone else to take care of her responsibilities so she could catch up on sleep. She tore her eyes away from the blond man's sharp blue gaze and took out the fold of bills in her pocket. Besides, what was she standing around here for? She needed to get home and she needed to pay him for the stuff he'd bought before she left. She looked at the slim fold. Twenty, that was what he'd given the clerk, wasn't it? Buffy knew she needed the money but she wasn't about to let some jumped-up rich foreigner pay for her kid's teething gel and the ice-cream she desperately needed for her own sanity that had, completely by accident, nearly caused him a broken nose.

She drew out a twenty dollar bill, shoving the singles back in her pocket and offered it out to him. To her dismay he shook his head at her.

"Not takin' that."

Buffy didn't know how much more of this she could take. She was tired, she was stressed, she was cold and she was angry and she still had to walk a mile home and breast feed before she got to go to bed.

"For God's sake, Bleach-Top would you just-" The unrelenting look upon Spike's face combined with the stress from lack of sleep and late hour of the night made Buffy hit a wall. A single tear spilled down her cheek. "You know what? Forget it!" Buffy scrunched the bill in her hand and threw it on the ground then spun around and stalked off across the parking lot in the direction of the town.

As luck would have it however, it was the same direction the tour bus was parked and Spike swiped the twenty dollars off the ground and followed closely behind her.

"What are you my stalker now?" Buffy ground out angrily.

"Nothing to do with you. 'M going back to the bus."

Buffy noticed for the first time than an anonymous white coach with dark windows was parked in the coach/truck section at the far end of the parking lot and Buffy eyed it distastefully. "Tourists!" Buffy muttered.

"Hey!" Spike complained.

"Well aren't you?" She countered.

"Not exactly. Travelling's part of my job. Me and a couple of mates sort of hired it out to cart us about places we have to go. In fact, since you seem to be on foot, we could give you a ride."

"Yeah, cause I'm in the habit of taking rides at three am from strange men who won't leave me alone!"

"Ah. Sort of see your point there but I'm not some sort of serial killer, just trying to be a gentleman what with it being the middle of the night and you being alone and all."

They were at the bus now and they both seemed to stop. Buffy rubbed her arms. It was getting chilly out. She should have worn more clothes. Well, it was just incentive to walk quicker home, and the quicker she got there the quicker she could get the feed done and get back to bed for a couple of hours sleep before she had to get up to go to work.

"You're going to say no, aren't you?" The blond punk said quietly, and just like that, suddenly, the antagonistic mood seemed to change. Dissipate.

Buffy sighed. "Look I'm tired and stressed and I just want to go home. Alone."

"At least take your money, yeah? You work a wage job, I'm guessing pay day's not 'til Friday."

"Really its-"

"Sodding hell woman! Take it!"

Buffy stared at the bill. "You know, just cause you're right doesn't mean I'm a charity case."

"Never said you were," Spike said quietly. He stared at her assessingly and found himself lost in her eyes again. God, she was beautiful.

Buffy blinked and looked away. Though it pained her to do so, thoughts of her responsibilities had her taking back the offered money. The very act was something she found shaming. It brought back unpleasant memories from Riley's funeral where Riley's parents had offered her financial help as their grandchild's mother, only it soon became clear that Riley's parents' offer was conditional on relocating their grandson to the corn-growing plains of Iowa. Her financial situation wasn't great, but she wasn't going to risk losing her son. Social services were watching her closely she knew, wanting to know if she was really coping being only 22 and already responsible for a baby and a teenage sister.

Buffy ignored the whisperings of social services and Riley's parents and just got on with it. As hard as it was to be a single mother and a working parent to two, she was determined to be financially independent to the last penny to prove she could be a provider and to stop her son and her sister being taken away by anyone – social services or well-meaning relatives.

Spike finally gave up and took the twenty bucks back. "You're one stubborn bint, love. Least wait here a minute and I'll lend you a jacket for walking home, yeah?"

Buffy shivered and wrapped her arms around her torso in an attempt to stay warm. Seeing no harm in the simple offer of a jacket, she rolled her eyes at his persistence and nodded, no longer having the energy or seeing the point of refuting something that seemed so innately harmless. A triumphant look rose up in the blond man's eyes.

"Don't move," He told her and tapped on the door of the bus. It hissed open and he leaped inside. A minute later he was back with a bulky leather coat in hand and he shook it out and held it open for her to put on.

"Uh, look, Mr..."

"William," He supplied.

"William. Right. Look, I might not have much money but that doesn't mean I don't know how to spend it and that's a very expensive leather duster you've got there."

Spike shrugged. "Warmest thing I've got with me and you're obviously cold; and since I know you're gonna insist on returning it I've put a business card in the pocket. Call the number and I'll arrange for a courier to pick it up."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," He confirmed.

Buffy stared at the coat for a moment. A coat wasn't financial so she couldn't complain about and he was even going to pay for its return without any real inconvenience to her. After hesitating a moment, she stepped up and put her arms in the sleeves of the duster he was holding open and immediately felt safe and warm as she wrapped it around yourself.

Spike felt himself harden at the vision of her in his duster. Okay, so she wasn't dolled up to the nines right now, but if anything her untidy state was more enticing. He was enjoying seeing her all adorably rumpled when most of the women he met these days were the sophisticated, empowered, wanton, 'fuck me!' types who mostly seemed to just want to use him for sex. He'd been with plenty of girls like that, seduced by them and their perfect hair and make-up and thoughts of endless hours of meaningless sex with as many girls as he wanted but a few years down the line and he was growing tired of it. For once he wanted to spend the whole night with someone instead of a just having a quick fuck.

Wanted to snuggle under the covers and have lazy breakfasts. Wanted to hang out all day doing nothing at all and giggle over old movies eating too much junk food. Coupley stuff. Private, intimate, couple-ish stuff that wouldn't be splashed over the tabloids when they split after a few days or a week. Ten years ago he would have given his right ball for a life of meaningless, no-strings-attached sex. No more lying that 'Of course I'll call you' or 'Tonight? I have plans' when a woman got clingy. Now the few encounters he still indulged in seemed hollow and empty when real emotional intimacy seemed so far beyond his reach.

Yet here was this woman all adorably rumpled and bloody sexy when she got angry and bless her, she was clearly exhausted from being up so late and a big part of Spike just wanted to forget about the contract and the band and the two gigs left and stay here and take care of her. Wanted to scoop her up in his arms, take her home to her bed and snuggle up with her under the covers for a few days.

She turned to look at him. "Why are you doing this?"

_'What the hell am I supposed to say?' _Spike wondered. He paused. His head tilted to the side and a wistful look came over his face. "I acted like a git and you got angry at me. I deserved it and you told me so. You don't fawn all over me like everyone else does, you tell it like it is. You don't want anything from me. Its been a long time since anyone's been so honest with me – telling me what they really thought instead of what they think I want to hear. There's no pretense about you. No hidden motives."

He reached out then and ever so gently ran his knuckles down the soft skin of her cheek in a gesture of affection that took her by surprise after their argument just minutes ago. "You treated me like I'm normal. That's not something that really happens to me anymore and, well," Spike hesitated. "It was nice."

Buffy thought it was the saddest thing she had ever heard. This man might be rich, but what sort of life did he have that the experience of being yelled at was worth a prized leather coat? Buffy looked into his eyes and realised they were doing that staring thing again and then his lips were coming closer and he was kissing her. Softly, sensuously. His hand tangled in the back of her head, hers dropped the groceries and stole under his designer t-shirt, her nails teasing the smooth skin of his perfect abs. His mouth pulled at her lips until she deepened the kiss and their tongues met, licking, rubbing, writhing together in the middle of a convenience store parking lot at 3am.

Then as soon as it started it ended. He looked deeply into her eyes one last time with an unfathomable expression, then turned away and just like that he was gone.

Buffy opened her mouth to call after him but the door of the bus closed behind him, the engine started up and Buffy was forced to watch as it rolled out of the parking lot and out onto the highway.

She shoved her hands in the deep pockets and wrapped the oversized duster around herself. Her fingers found the card he had mentioned and drew it was no name or company or title, just a telephone number with the word 'William' scrawled across the top, obviously in a hurry. She flipped it over and found another scrawl on the back.

'P.S. I like your Pretty Green Eyes.'

Buffy looked after the bus as it trundled off into the distance heading towards L.A. Soon it was gone and she shoved the card back in her pocket and So maybe he wasn't such a jerk after all. Buffy gave a mental shrug and at that moment tiredness seemed to overwhelm her. She picked up the forgotten groceries and headed for Dawn and her son and home.

Back to reality.

Author's Note: Please review and let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I'm borrowing Mrs McCluskey from Desperate Housewives, just cause I love her. She's not actually in this chapter but she pops up in passing references.

I am now going to shamefully admit that I haven't been through this thoroughly, but its been through a spell/gram check and I've skimmed it so I don't think there's anything major but any screw ups are my own.

(4,837)

* * *

Two weeks later Buffy was at work. It was the middle of the day and the lunch time rush was just beginning to wane. She would be off in about an hour. Sixty two minutes to be precise, just in time to meet Dawn out of school. Sixty one minutes and fifty seconds. Forty nine...forty eight...

Not that she was counting.

Her elderly neighbour Mrs McCluskey was once again looking after her son, Riley Jason Finn Junior and though the grumpy old dear always berated Buffy for lowering herself to burger flipping and for a dozen other things every time they met but Buffy wasn't going to turn down free childcare when she was offered it. Mrs McCluskey's own sons had been killed in active service years ago and seemed to enjoy pretending to be a grandmother for a few hours every day, even though she always seemed relieved when Buffy turned up to take her son back. Buffy imagined Mrs McCluskey liked having the company.

At the Doublemeat Palace work was monotonous as always, not to mention greasy. The burgers had questionable meat content, there was enough sugar in the sodas to make your teeth rot and enough grease in everything to make you pile on weight if you weren't careful and everything, somehow, managed to end up stinking of grease.

Once upon a time Buffy had been a health-conscious young girl with a healthy fitness regime and a healthy appetite to match.

No more.

After dishing out greasy food all day however she was usually lucky if she could bring herself to eat anything at all. She tried to eat well and to provide more than burgers for the sake of her family. Even so, life had become a grind. When work ended she was relieved to go home until she got there and by morning she was so stressed out from lack of sleep and new bills in the mail that she was usually relieved to have to leave for work again, until she actually got there. It was a mind-numbing mixture of burger flipping and serving ignorant customer after ignorant customer. Most of them didn't even tear their eyes away from the menu long enough to even acknowledge her existence as a fellow human being and when she got home she had a whining teen who screamed at her and refused to do her homework and a baby that just wouldn't stop crying long enough to let her get a few hours sleep before it all started again the following day. Buffy wondered how long this teething thing would go on, because it wasn't looking good. He had been unsettled and discontent for nearly two weeks now, ever since that night she had realised he was getting his first tooth and had had to make a late night run to the 7Eleven.

It seemed like a dream now, crashing into a handsome stranger who saw through the sleep deprivation and dishevelled clothes to the woman underneath. Being kissed – no, devoured – like his very existence depended on it. So passionate, so intense...

"Summers! Stop dawdling and get back to serving the customers! I don't pay you to daydream! Keep the mind on the job or you're getting another warning!"

She'd already had one warning this month for tardiness after Dawn had been caught skipping school and she had been forced to take a detour to the school Principal's office on her way to work. They'd taken her off overtime as an encouragement to turn up on time for the work she had already and it was going to make things tight this month. Dawn's new school things would have to wait if they wanted to make rent this month. If only her mother's estate hadn't mostly been used up paying medical bills the lawyers might at least have been able to pay off the mortgage, but life never seemed to turn out like that anymore. These days it felt to Buffy like life never gave her a break. Luck always went someone else's way. She felt trapped in a never ending cycle of bills and rent and Dawn's school life and her own measly work and as if that wasn't enough, social services and Riley's parents breathing down her neck. The trickle of money from the US Army she got as Riley's widow was the only extra income she had, but she had made the decision early on after his death to put most of that into a savings account in the hope of giving her son a better future – a future that she and Dawn almost certainly wouldn't have. As a college drop-out there was little chance of her getting a job that paid more than the minimum wage and unless Dawn's school results picked back up her sister's chances of getting a scholarship were soon going to disappear completely.

Buffy made her way back to her station and met the first customer with a fake smile.

"Welcome to Doublemeat Palace. May I take your order?"

"Two regular cheeseburgers, two large fries, two regular orange sodas."

Buffy turned away to prepare the order but saw there was only one cheeseburger prepared. She grabbed it and went to collect two large fries and fill two regular orange sodas hoping one would be ready by the time she was finished. No second cheeseburger appeared.

"One moment, ma'am," Buffy told the customer and then went to see what was going on. Behind the counter towards the back of the room the staff radio jingled away in the background. At the front of the shop it was only just audible but the sound grew louder as Buffy made her way through the back to the food preparation area where Matty was flipping burgers and making them up as they became ready. Really they should have had someone else, but now the lunch rush was over there were fewer staff around. 'Efficiency savings' is what management had called it. Matty was younger than her, just out of high school and he looked it. His hair was probably brown but the grease in it made it look darker. His skin was greasy too and he still wore braces. Unlike her though, Matty wasn't going to be stuck here for the rest of his life. People made fun of him for his looks, but he was making his way through college by going to night school and Buffy respected that, even if she didn't like him all that much.

"Matty? I need another cheeseburger."

"Coming right up, Buffy. Hey, are you and Dawn busy tonight?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. He always asked about Dawn.

"Yes, Matty, we're busy tonight."

"Oh, well, another time maybe."

In one of those strange coincidences in life, the music on the radio stopped at the exact same time as the conversation came to a pause and the sound of the DJ's voice filled the small back room of the greasy fast food joint.

"_...and today we are lucky enough to be joined by WereWolves stars Spike and Oz. Welcome to the show guys."_

"_Hi,"_ The first guy replied. A soft spoken American.

"_Hello."_ The second voice was deeper and English. There was a familiarity to it that Buffy couldn't quite explain and her mind zoned in on the radio as she tried to work it out.

"_That was a song from your latest album 'Creatures of the Night'. You guys have just finished a massive homecoming tour for that album. How was that for you guys? An what was it like coming back to LA and playing here again?'_

"_It was great, Gunn," _The English one again.

"_We formed in LA so its always good to play here," _The American agreed.

"_Alright we'll get more from you guys later. Right now we're going to play another of your songs. This one is..."_

"One cheeseburger!"

Buffy blinked. She had spaced out without even realising it. Matty was in front of her now, holding out a specially made cheeseburger with a hopeful look on his face. Buffy was just glad the boy was sucking up to her because he liked Dawn and she didn't have to dodge any unwanted flirting from a guy she would never even consider dating. The radio faded back into music and the niggling familiarity escaped her mind as the present all too real monotony of her job invaded her mind once more. She grabbed the boxed up burger and gave him a well-practised fake smile. "Thanks, Matty."

Back around the front she presented the completed order to the impatient lady with the familiar fake smile.

"Thankyou for choosing Doublemeat Palace. Have a nice day."

The woman shot a glare at Buffy for making her wait and then trudged out the door. Buffy glanced up at the clock on the wall before meeting the next customer with her usual smile. Fifty eight and a half minutes to go. Not that she was counting.

"Welcome to Doublemeat Palace, may I take your order?"

_* * *_

High up in an office block in LA the two members of WereWolf were sitting in a meeting with the executives of their record company. The was room finished to a high standard – glass and Italian leather and expensive wood – giving the appearance of taste and civility but it was all a front and Spike knew it. The panel of executives in front of him sat in a row, all wearing expensive suits bought with the record company's profits off his album, but behind the fancy décor and tailored suits were a bunch of vicious wolves and they were, not for the first time, showing their teeth and Spike had just about had enough of it.

"You are fucking kidding me! We've made you millions on this album!" Spike raged at the record executives in front of him. Their US tour had only ended ten days ago and before that there had been a punishing series of gigs in Europe and Asia and all for the guys in suits sitting smugly in front of him. The album was a big success and still sat comfortably in the top ten yet apparently that wasn't enough for the greedy guys at the record company who had been making his life hell for the past four years, milking everything out of WereWolf to the point where Spike was sure they would have split up if it wasn't for Oz's calming presence. What had he been thinking? That naïve college student he had been six years ago, strumming away on his guitar with his new best mate in the night clubs around UCLA, seemed so long ago and far away now that the old him might as well have been a completely different person. 'Become a musician and become your own boss!' That was what he'd thought. Showed what he knew didn't it, because for the past four years and one month the record company he was currently ensconced within had been ruling his life and making it hell with orders and schedules and black letter contracts and that last one of all was what now seemed to be the problem.

The panel looked at each other. Identical middle aged Caucasian men in identical white shirts and tailored suits. Spike had stopped trying to tell them apart.

It was the middle one that finally spoke.

"We're looking after your interests as well as ours, Spike. This was a three album deal. Three albums over five years and we're now into the fifth year and yes, your second album has been very successful but if you don't produce another album in the next eleven months you'll be in breach of contract. We just felt the need to point that out. We've been concerned you're forgetting your obligations to this company for some time now."

"You fucking..." Words failed Spike, he was livid with rage. A firm hand on his arm from his bandmate reined him in. Just. He glanced at Oz, the quieter of the two of them and saw how angry he was too. They were both being screwed over here. Ordered about like serfs at Mickey D's instead of multi-million dollar earning rock-stars. Should have known the record company would screw them. Wasn't that what everyone said? Watch out for the record companies. Of course, he'd been stupid enough to equate money with power back when he was still hoping for his lucky break. Now he had made it he couldn't believe he'd ever thought like that. He might have the power to get a few free perks here and there, or the power to make hundreds of women fall at his feet but he didn't have power where it mattered. Didn't have the power to make women want the man, instead of the rock star. Didn't have the power to run his own music career, ruled as it had been since before he was famous by these guys in suits screwing him around. Spike knew he'd been stupid to think when he was on the up and up that because he'd have money and fame that the record company couldn't touch him. A contract was a contract, as they loved to remind him but he was fed up of their games. He was an artist. Didn't they get that? Both he and Oz were in this for the music. They weren't in it for the money, as good as that was, or to churn out mass-produced records like fast food places churned out burgers.

Spike knew they were both exhausted from the latest tour. Physically and emotionally. But more than that, Spike was Lonely. He was tired of the jet-set lifestyle. Constantly on the move, going from place to place. Finding somewhere to inspire him and Oz to write, flying around visiting radio studios and going to charity events. Recording in New York, producing in London, coming back to meet The Suits in LA. It seemed like and endless cycle. Maybe there'd be some involvement in the album artwork and pre-release publicity in yet another city on yet another continent. Then there would be the promotional press rounds: television interviews, chat shows, breakfast shows, late night shows. Magazines, photographers, press interviews and more besides and all in different cities in different countries around the world. Then there would be the tour proper which would last for months and sap every ounce of energy from his body and then before he'd recovered the cycle seemed to start all over again. According to the contract the album had to be finished within the next eleven months. That meant there would still be all the promotion and media attention and another punishing tour after that. He just wanted out. Not that there was any chance of that happening any time soon.

As soon as they were out of the building, Spike took a deep breath of LA's less-than-fresh air and sighed heavily.

"I can't do it, Oz," He confessed. "The endless pressure from the Execs up there, the responsibility I feel to the fans. The media circus constantly breathing down my neck. Its too much. I feel like I'm being pulled in a thousand different directions. I feel like a stranger in my own life."

"Its been tough," Oz agreed.

"We need a break. I just don't know if we can afford the time off, mate."

Oz shrugged. "We've got eleven months. We could rest up a bit and see where we're at."

Spike grunted something that might have been an agreement and decided to try and put it out of his mind for the moment. They fell into step, walking along on the pavement towards their ride.

"So, that chick at the 7Eleven?" Oz queried. "You gonna call her."

"Why would I do that?" Spike aimed for casual and knew he had failed miserably. The alarmed squeak in his voice had sort of given that away.

"You liked her," Oz replied.

Spike shot a glare sideways. Oz was smirking, he was sure of it. A lesser mortal wouldn't realise it of course, but through six years of friendship he had developed the God-like ability to interpret his friends expressions. He wasn't happy. Oz hadn't been the only one on the bus that night and he was still trying to forget their reaction. "Did you see Angel? Laughed his bloody head off! Was still going on about 'trailer trash' two days later!"

Spike didn't realise how loud he was being until Oz silently pointed out the public were beginning to take notice of who they were and what they were saying. They communicated with a single look and hurried along to the anonymous black Lexus Oz had borrowed from his chauffeur to take them to the meeting and climbed inside, Oz at the driving side. His silence was unnerving and as Oz expected, it wasn't long before Spike started spilling the beans.

"I don't not like her," Spike replied evasively. "I mean, you can't deny she was hot – in a cute, rumpled, just-rolled-out-of-bed, kittenish sort of way. Well, more like a sleep-deprived, over-worked, single-mother sort of way but that's not the point."

Spike paused.

"Actually," He reconsidered, "That's exactly the point. There was no pretence about her. She was all woman, you know? The genuine article. All those girls that throw themselves at us are all so bloody dolled up you can't tell what's real and what's fake – including their attitude. One minute they're sucking up to you, next minute they're walking out the door having got what they want and if they're not after sex they're after money. Bloody story of my life. Not that anyone ever warns you about this stuff. Have to work it out for yourself and by then everything you've ever done in private turns up in every tabloid from here to bloody China."

"Yeah, you've had bad luck man."

"This girl was... she was different, you know? Don't think she knew who I was but she could tell I had money and she didn't care. Threw it in my face even. Then she'd stare at me and I'd get lost in her. I'm telling you Oz, I could have stared at her all day. Her and her pretty green eyes. And she was so bloody feisty! You should have seen her all riled and self righteous! She got this look in her eye when she got angry, like..." He stopped suddenly, realising he'd been rambling for some time now. "Alright, maybe I like her."

Oz smiled to himself in satisfaction.

"Stop bloody smirking like that!"

He didn't.

* * *

Buffy pushed the front door closed with a weary sigh and switched on the hall light. Instantly it made the place seem warmer, though the rest of the house was still dark and cold-looking. A leather jacket slung over the banister gave the false impression that a man lived in this house, and Buffy once more mentally reminded herself to call up William and arrange to give his jacket back...in the same way that she had been reminding herself every time she came home since that bizarre meeting at the 7Eleven almost two weeks ago.

On her way home Buffy had swung by her neighbour's house to pick up her son. Mrs McCluskey had been in a chatty mood and so picking up RJ had taken a lot longer than she planned. Her breasts were sore now and RJ was making 'I'm hungry' noises and so although Dawn would be home in a few minutes and she needed to shower and change, the first thing she did was to dump their bags by the door and take RJ through to the living room. She sat down with him on the sofa and unbuttoned her top. There was a bottle of expressed milk in her bag that would need to go in the refrigerator in a moment but right now they both needed a few minutes of mother-son bonding and RJ clearly needed to eat.

Buffy hadn't taken to breastfeeding as naturally as she felt a lot of the information leaflets made out that she would, but it was cheaper than buying powdered milk and so she had stuck with it, albeit with some difficulty at first. The only problem was that in order to keep up with feeds after she had returned to work she had found herself needing to find quiet moments during breaks at work to get out the breast pump and express. It was they only way Dawn and Mrs McCluskey could keep up with the regular feeds when she wasn't around without resorting to buying milk powder that she couldn't really afford. Now the sight of a baby's bottle of milk in the refrigerator in the Doublemeat staff room was something the other staff had gotten used to, notwithstanding an interesting incident a few weeks ago with the manager's coffee.

Once he was done she put the express milk in the fridge and went upstairs with her son. She changed him and then left him in his cot while she went for a shower and changed. She was just finishing drying her hair when she heard the front door close. Buffy put down the hairdryer and looked at the clock. Dawn was right on time.

She picked up RJ, who smiled and giggled happily. Her hair was long at the moment and he grabbed it and began to play with it as Buffy made her way downstairs to meet Dawn home from school.

"Welcome home, Dawn. How was school?"

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Boring."

"You did actually go, right?"

"Geez! I went, okay? And would it kill you to trust me just a little bit?"

"Dawn, come on. Its not like you've been all that trust _worthy _lately."

"I went, okay?" Dawn said, more quietly this time.

"I love you. You know that, right? I know I don't say it very often, but I do. I couldn't bear it if I lost you."

"Please! I'm not exactly desperate to get into foster care either, Buffy! You don't have to be a total worry wart you know?"

"I'm your sister. I'm supposed to worry," Buffy reminded her. At first tentatively and then warmly the two sisters moved in for a hug. When they finally pulled back Buffy smiled tiredly at her sister. "How about you bring your homework into the kitchen and I can help you with it while I make dinner?"

"Really?" Dawn's eyes brightened. Most days they ate ready meals or Buffy brought something home from work. At first Buffy just hadn't been very good at cooking, but Mrs McCluskey had taught her how to boil water without burning down the kitchen and things had gone from there. Even though Buffy's cooking still had a ways to go, it was little things like this that told Dawn that Buffy cared. Her sister had never been great at expressing her feelings and after first Riley's death and then their mother's death in close succession everything had been a bit screwed up for a while. It sucked that Buffy worked so much and a large part of Dawn resented the fact that Buffy didn't spend more time with her even though rationally she knew that her sister worked so much so that they had a place to live and food to eat.

Whatever hard feelings erupted when Dawn was pissed off, Buffy's rare offers to hang out together always swept them away. She raced upstairs, dumped her coat and bag and returned to the kitchen with a selection of school books.

Buffy was already at the cooker, throwing things in the pan and RJ was safely sitting in his seat on the other side of the kitchen – far enough away that he wouldn't get in the way or get injured by any hot things but near enough that he could still see his mom and listen to her voice.

She heard Dawn come into the room behind her and was about to ask about Dawn's school work when Dawn got in first with something completely different.

"I see his coat's still there."

"Huh? Whose coat?"

"Duh! William. Your hot 7Eleven guy that you wouldn't shut up about for like, a week after you met him. Its been sitting there like the elephant in the room for almost two weeks now and you kept saying you were gonna call him and, oh look, his duster is _still there._"

"Yeah, well, I just keep forgetting that's all. I've been busy," Buffy told the half truth. She had been busy and she had kept forgetting, but neither of those things were the real reason she hadn't called him. The real reason was that she was scared of rejection and didn't want to admit it. There'd been that amazing connection between them and then a leg-popping kiss and all before all the usual talking and getting to know each other stuff. What if it was just a one night thing? What if he had just been taking pity on her and didn't really want to see her? What if he was just being a stand-up guy and she'd read too much into everything?

"You do realise he wouldn't have given you his coat if he wasn't interested."

"I...what?"

"Buffy that coat is worth, like, a thousand dollars or something. _And _he left you his number. You should totally call him."

"I don't know Dawn. What if I'm imagining something that wasn't there? It would be totally humiliating. And worse, what if I wasn't? I don't know if I'm ready for that yet; and I have RJ to think about. Besides its not like I have a lot of free time right now and even if I did I doubt any guy who looks like he just stepped out of a Calvin Klein ad wants to date a single mom with two dependents."

"God, depressed much? You seriously need to learn how to have fun! Its not like I'm saying you should marry the guy! Just ask if he wants to come over and get his coat and then you can invite him in for coffee or something. Just imagine it. Talking. To another adult. With actually words...instead of baby gurgles and your bratty kid sister."

Dawn wanted to try and convince Buffy about this. Okay, so she hadn't met the guy yet but her sister hadn't dated in about eleven months. More than enough time had passed for her sister to get back out there. It wasn't just that Buffy deserved some happiness after all the sucky stuff that had happened since Riley and their mom died, it was also that Dawn was fed up of mopey Buffy. Her sister liked dating. It made her happy. If things went further than that then maybe that could be a good thing too. Buffy's friends were okay, but they weren't exactly the mature-adult support network they needed right now. Joyce was dead, Hank was off the radar and Willow's parents had always been a bit absent in the caring department. Mrs McCluskey helped when she could, but it wasn't the same as having another adult around. Maybe a guy was just what Buffy needed.

It appeared that Buffy wouldn't be budged though. She once more shot herself down and with it, derided the very idea of any sane man seriously wanting to date her.

Disappointed, Dawn sighed heavily and somewhat grumpily began her math homework.

* * *

As it turned out, Dawn's words had more influence than she might have guessed from Buffy's immediate, ignominious response. Later on that evening after Dawn had finished her homework and the sister had shared dinner. After laughing together over a few crappy television programmes, after RJ had been fed and changed and tucked up in bed and after Dawn had finally given into her sister's orders to head to her room and at least keep up the pretense of an actual bedtime, Buffy was going round the house locking the doors and switching off the lights when she stopped at the foot of the stairs and found herself fingering the sleeves of the jacket.

Was Dawn right? Could he really be interested?

Buffy thought back to the kiss they'd shared, the intense way he'd looked into her eyes as if he saw right through her down to her very soul.

She reached a hand into the pocket and plucked out the now dog-eared scribble of card and picked up the phone.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: This took me a bit longer than I wanted to finish firstly because I struggled with it a bit in the middle and secondly I started christmas preparations this weekend instead of writing. This chapter goes out to all the lurkers (I know you're there!). Hope everyone is enjoying the story. As always I'm just borrowing the characters and all mistakes are my own.

Buffy wandered through to the living room and switched on a lamp as she listened to the phone ringing at the other end of the line. Now that she was finally getting up the guts to pick up the phone she realised it somehow felt better calling at night than her previous daytime attempts over the last couple of weeks. After all, they had met late at night in the first place and moreover there was something about the darkness that rather than scaring her, made her feel safe. The night enveloped her, hiding all the problems in her life and keeping out all the harsh realities of day.

She sat down and then stood up again too nervous to sit still.

The ringing stopped with a click. Before she could so much as say hello words fired at her from the other end of the line.

"Oz, I admitted I like her. Would you bloody give it up already?"

Buffy couldn't believe what she was hearing. William! _That _was why that voice on the radio sounded so familiar! The band guy on the radio was William! But the two musicians on the radio hadn't called themselves William, they had been Spike and Oz and he wasn't Oz because he thought _she _was Oz. He must be Spike...but if he was Spike why had he introduced himself as William?

Thoughts whirled around Buffy's mind. She was sure this had to be some horrible prank being played on her. Was he famous? Had he laughed at her for not knowing who he really was?

"Oz?" His voice echoed down the line.

Buffy moved her lips but words wouldn't come out.

"Hello? Anyone there?"

Eventually Buffy found her tongue. "I...William?"

This time the silence was on his end.

"I'm calling about your duster? I'm sorry its taken so long for me to call you, life's been sort of crazy lately."

Another pause hung at the other end. "Pretty Green Eyes," He finally said, a smile audible in his voice.

"I...uh...what?"

"From the 7Eleven. It _is _you, isn't it?"

"Pretty Green Eyes...that's what you wrote on the card."

"'S what I decided to call you, since I don't have your real name. You don't mind, pet, do you?" At the other end of the phone Spike grinned like an idiot. She'd called. Finally, finally, finally she had called. It had only taken a bloody fortnight!

"You think my eyes are pretty?"

"Amongst other things," he teased her. "Been going bloody crazy waiting for you to call me!"

"You have?"

"Yeah. Look, I know I said I'd get a courier to pick up my duster but I was wondering if maybe you'd mind if I swung by myself instead. Truth is, I've been sort of hoping to see you again. Was thinking I could take you out for dinner or something?"

"William..."

Sure that she was about to turn him down, he jumped in, desperate to compromise before his hopes were dashed. "Please don't say no! If dinner's too much we could just do coffee. Have a chat, yeah? Or something else even. Whatever you want."

"William, " Buffy replied quietly ."I have responsibilities here."

"You mentioned you were a single mom before, love, I haven't forgotten."

"I said that? When?"

"When you tried to off me with that freezer door."

"It was an accident!" Buffy protested weakly.

Spike chuckled. "That so, pet? Sure you weren't just after my beloved leather jacket?"

Stuttered protests echoed down the line from Buffy's end.

"Its alright, love. I'm just teasing you. Look, I was a jerk that night. Deserved you getting all feisty on me." He paused. "Been dreaming about it ever since, as a matter of fact. Anyone ever told you you're hot when you're angry?"

"No." Buffy frowned. Where was he going with this?

"Well you are. Don't suppose you happen to have my duster around just now? Maybe wearing it, or something?"

"No."

"Pity. You made a pretty picture standing there swamped in my duster that night, all and rumpled and shaggable."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Aren't you supposed to know my first name before you start seducing me?"

It was a bucket of cold water to Spike's raging libido. He'd been so happy about finally calling her and had spent so many dreamy days and nights fantasising about her as he rested up after the tour that he was forgetting she wasn't like anyone else he'd ever dated before. If this was going to work he'd have to keep himself under a tight rein around her. This wasn't one of the girls who was so desperate to have him he only had to convince her that yes, he was chatting _her_ up. This wasn't a no-attachments one night stand or a week-long shag-athon he was viewing up and although it had been a while since meaningless sex had lost its allure, he realised he had stupidly fallen into old habits sometime since the beginning of their conversation.

"I'm sorry, love. I shouldn't have said that."

Well to be honest I'm not exactly sure what it meant but something tells me it was at least third date talk."

"I agree. Lets get started on dates one and two?" He pushed.

"William, I told you..."

"Bring the sprogs along, if its that much trouble."

"William, that's not..." Buffy sighed. "Look, I know, alright? I heard these guys 'Spike and Oz' from some band being interviewed on the radio today and at first I didn't think much of it except that the Spike guy sounded familiar but I couldn't quite work out why. When I picked up the phone just now you thought it was gonna be this Oz guy calling you and I realised you sounded exactly like Spike and I sort of put two and two together."

"So?"

"_So?_" Buffy raged. "So, it doesn't exactly take genius to work out that you've been lying to me!"

"I have not! When have I ever lied to you?"

"How about when you told me your name was William?!"

"My name _is _William. Spike is the name I use for work and the reason I didn't tell you that is precisely because you didn't look at me and see Spike the rock star, you looked at me and saw me as the man I am, as William. A rich man maybe, and a bit of a git, but still a man and what's more you were gutsy enough to put me in my place when I deserved it. A bloke in my position doesn't just forget a thing like that."

Buffy didn't know what to say to that, so she didn't say anything.

"You wanna know what I saw when I looked at you?" Spike continued.

"With what I was wearing?" She snorted self-deprecatingly. His initial attitude had been harsh and sneering. Buffy could only guess what he must have thought of her before his attitude had changed. "'Trailer trash'? 'Bitch'? 'Pathetic'? Whatever it was, I doubt it was anything I haven't been called before."

"No, love, I saw a woman who was beautiful and strong and feisty. You don't know how much it means to me that instead of sucking up to me you were bold enough to lay into me for being a jerk. I liked you immediately, probably more than I ought to, and if I left abruptly after our kiss it was only because if I didn't leave then I doubt I could have brought myself to leave you at all and I had obligations in LA that I couldn't get out of. I understand things might be tough for you financially but I don't care about that. I want to see you again."

"If this is some sort of joke..."

"Its not a joke. Please, let me see you. Just one date, its all I ask; and I'm sorry that I didn't tell you about the band thing but I'm still the same guy you met two weeks ago. All it means is that a few folks know who I am."

"A few folks?" Buffy asked disbelievingly.

"Maybe more than a few," He admitted.

"Huh. Do press follow you around and stuff?"

Sitting on his leather couch in his spacious LA bachelor pad, Spike shifted uncomfortably. The paparazzi were not welcome in the fancy compound he lived in, but she lived a quiet small-town life and the thought of trying to date someone with press hanging around all the time would, he knew, be discouraging to both of them. Still, he knew he couldn't lie to her just to get on her good side.

"Sometimes, they do."

"Will they do that if you come over?"

"Bloody better not!" He paused and shrugged out of habit, even though she couldn't see his smirk or laid-back body language down the phone. "Course if they do, I could just sic you on 'em," He teased her.

"Hey! I'm not that bad!"

Spike was sure if she was sitting next to him she would have smacked him lightly and strangely, it was a happy thought. He could imagine them being that comfortable with each other. That intimate.

"So you'll go out with me?" He asked hopefully.

"Why don't you come and pick up your duster and I'll think about it."

"Tonight too soon?"

"Yes."

"Tomorrow then."

"I guess..."

"Great! Where do I come?"

A very naughty thought passed through Buffy's head. She pushed it away, but couldn't hide the heat in her cheeks as she blushed and was relieved he couldn't see how at the other end of the phone.

"Sixteen Thirty Revello Drive."

"Sunnydale?"

"Yup. I'm gonna take a wild guess and say you don't stay in town?"

"Nah. Got a pad in LA," Spike admitted. "One last thing..."

"My name?"

"Actually I was gonna ask about your kids."

"Its just one kid, and don't you don't wanna know my name?"

"I like the mystery," Spike was still grinning down the phone, unable to stop himself.

"You can't call me 'Pretty Green Eyes' forever."

"Why not? 'S true. Besides, it would be just my luck to find a girl I really like and then discover she has a stupid Valley name like 'Chastity' or 'Harmony' or 'Bunny'."

Buffy's breath stopped. It was just her luck to have almost exactly like the crawl away and hide somewhere but another, braver Buffy rose up inside her.

"Actually, my name is Buffy."

"You're kidding." He wasn't quite sure if she was pulling his leg or not.

"What's wrong with 'Buffy'?"

"_What's wrong with it?_"He repeated. "Wait a minute, you're a woman. That's a trick question."

"Sexist much? And you never told me what's wrong with 'Buffy'?"

"What's wrong with Buffy is that it the sort of name that's only used by pre-pubescent girls and strippers but that's okay cause I know you're pulling my leg," He declared confidently, having finally decided that she couldn't be serious.

Bad memories flooded Buffy's mind and self-doubt that she had long toiled with came bubbling back to the surface. Fine. If he was going to be a jerk then she didn't want to have anything to do with him.

"You know what?" She declared angrily. "_Don't _come around tomorrow. If you're so famous I'll find your manager and mail your coat. Good bye, _Spike!_"

Slam.

* * *

Slam.

"What? No! Buffy? Buffy!"

Spike peeled the phone away from his ear. _"No!" _He gasped, unable or unwilling to comprehend that she'd just done what she had done. Cut him off. Ended things. Before they had even begun.

What had he said? He knew he must have been a jerk again because she'd just hung up on him.

"Damn it! I just had to shove my foot in my sodding mouth, didn't I? Bloody idiot!" He berated himself.

After that, Spike spent a good ten minutes pacing around his flat, ranting at her, himself, the record company and even at Buffy's mother, for giving her such a stupid name.

Any other time with any other woman he would have eventually come to the conclusion that it was best just to forget about it and move on, that the situation wasn't worth the bother of trying to put things straight. But this wasn't any other woman. Buffy was special and he wasn't about to give up on things when they hadn't even gotten going yet.

"Grovelling, mate. Grovelling always works," He told himself. He picked up the telephone and hit ringback, but an automated voice told him the number was not available. He looked at his watch. Nearly midnight. There was only one thing for it.

Spike snatched up the post-it note with her address on it, grabbed his jacket and headed out the door.

* * *

Buffy started second guessing herself as soon as she slammed down the phone. Part of her didn't know why she'd done it, but another part knew better. Something insider her had just snapped.

Everything she had learned during the short conversation had, when taken together, been a bit too much to take in. She'd thought he was some rich jerk and had taken out some of her anger at her own crappy life on him at their first meeting. Now it turned out he was a bit more than another wealthy guy with an arrogant streak. He was a musician. People knew who he was. Her husband Riley hadn't exactly filled her with confidence as their relationship progressed and immediately the old doubts he had settled in her mind began to resurface and she found herself wondering why a guy who could probably have any girl he wanted would be showing any interest in her. Besides that was the fact that everything she did affected not just herself but RJ and Dawn as well. She was still breastfeeding. It was insane to consider dating when she had to negotiate her whole life around breast pumps and regular feeds.

Then just as she had been wavering between hopefulness and doubt, he'd made her so angry, laughing at her like that about her name. It seemed so long since she had dated that she realised the bit of her that wasn't doubting herself, the inner 'excited teenager' part of her had felt rather more excited about the prospect of going out with a cute, sexy guy than was sensible. He was hot and had a sexy accent and when he wasn't being a total jerk he could be sweet and considerate in an impatient, sometimes grouchy sort of way. When he'd refused her attempt to pay him back at their first meeting at the 7Eleven it hadn't been pity in his eyes, it had been a glimmer of the sort of knowledge that only came from experience of trying to make ten or twenty dollars stretch to the end of the week. He could be arrogant and annoying too and sometimes but affecting all of these thoughts and everything else in her mind was the chemistry, the inexplicable connection like electricity that seemed to spark and crackle between them. William had the ability no one else ever had to make her passionately enraged with seemingly no effort at all, but even that was underpinned by a growing sexual tension between them that she as sure he must have felt.

She thought back over the conversation and bit her lip when she thought of the way he had chuckled warmly, or honestly complimented her, or his voice had gone all low and masculinely sexy. He seemed to enjoy getting her all riled up, too. William had called it feisty, passionate even, as if he respected her for her gumption. It was something that was difficult for her to get her head around. Riley had hated it when she 'stepped out of place' as he put it. Riley had wanted her meek and obedient. Only now as she sat questioning her own motives for her rash action did she realise that she had been scared about how deeply he affected her after so short a time and everything that might mean.

She had thought about him in the weeks since their first surreal meeting but there was a dream-like quality to her thoughts, an escapist idealism that was detached from the emotional reality of letting someone into her life again. Besides, she had spent so much time alternately raging and swooning over the way he'd behaved that night that she now realised that she hadn't really given any thought to how much she might like him. She still wasn't sure of the exact nature or extent of her own feelings, but maybe the fact alone that she couldn't stop thinking about him told her enough. He brought out a side of her that she barely knew and that, also, was scary. Then there was the way the memory of his well-toned body and handsome features affected her. She had learned the hard way that looks alone was not a good reason for getting into things with someone but that didn't stop her body reacting to his. Buffy knew you weren't supposed to speak ill of the dead, but there was no denying the way Riley's behaviour had changed once they'd settled into married life, and her experience of that relationship was making her second guess everything William did. The only positive was that there were signs from William that now, in hindsight, were plain to see when things began with Riley but that at the time she had overlooked in her joy at clinching the hot Army boy. Then again, Parker hadn't exactly come across as creep and look how that turned out!

Getting into any relationship was scary, but with her track record just meeting someone she liked was enough to fill her with doubt and she was so confused now that she couldn't work out if it was good or bad that Spike wasn't like anyone she had ever dated. He affected her like no one else. Made her feel out of control. With the mess her life was in already and struggling as she was to meet all the demands of all the different people who controlled different parts of her life – her employer at work, Dawn and RJ at home, social services and Riley's parents - she needed all the control she could muster. She didn't need to feel out of control of her own emotions as well. Some people might see it as a bit of a thrill but Buffy wasn't one of them. Not with the way her life was right now.

* * *

A couple of hours later and Buffy lay awake in the dark. She had dozed for a while but had been unable to sleep properly and now found herself awake again. It was like this sometimes. Her body so used to pushing through eviscerating tiredness that it didn't know how to shut down when the opportunity finally came around so she emptied her mind and just lay there in the darkness.

Sometime later she came around and realised she must have dozed off again. She rolled her head to the side and looked at her clock. 02:47am. She hadn't been sleeping heavily, but she had been sleeping and she wondered what could have caused her to wake when there was another knock on the door downstairs.

"Guess that would be it, then," She muttered to herself.

Buffy dragged herself out of bed, took her dressing gown from the back of her bedroom door and shrugged it on over the light pyjama pants and the camisole top she had worn to bed. Not bothering with her slippers she tiptoed downstairs, being careful not to wake Dawn or RJ and made her way to the front door. The key was sitting on the table in the hall. They jingled as she tried to find the key using only the dim yellow light of the streetlights seeping in through the living and dining room windows. Whoever was at the door knocked again and she muttered to herself about her visitors impatience and turning up in the middle of the night. She slid the key in the lower old-fashioned style lock, then twisted the knob on the higher Yale-style lock, deciding not to take off the chain.

Cautiously she pulled the door open only as far as the chain would let her and nearly fainted when she saw William standing there, hands stuffed in the pockets of his waist-length biker jacket and bobbing impatiently on the balls of his feet. His back was to the door but when the locks clicked open he spun around on his heels and fixed her with an imploring and apologetic look.

"I'm sorry!"

"William," She squinted in the harsh brightness of the streetlights in the background. "What are you doing here? Its almost three in the morning."

"I was a git and I was stereotyping and you deserve better than that, and I can't lose you when I've only just found you. There's nothing wrong with your name, Buffy. I'm sorry if I offended you."

"You drove three hours from LA on a week night just to apologise?"

"It would seem that way, yeah. Did it work?"

"I'll let you know in the morning."

The door began to close.

"No, wait!" Spike reached out to push against it and stop her from clicking it closed. He was unsuccessful and growled in frustration. There was a small noise behind the door then seconds after it had closed it opened again, minus the chain, and he felt like a git again. "Oh...sorry. Seem to be saying that a lot lately. Look, I didn't mean to wake you its just, when you hung up it seemed so final. I couldn't let things end like that."

"It wasn't _final _final, it was just a lot of information to deal with in a first phone call. Not only do you have money but you have a band and people know who you are and that's a lot of pressure on someone like me. I haven't dated in a long time, I'm a single mom, I can barely meet ends meet..."

"Buffy, you don't need to feel any pressure. I just want to get to know you. I feel something when I'm with you and it scares me when I think about it, but its nothing like anything I've ever felt before and I didn't want to let that slip through my fingers...and now I'm here and you're standing there in your pyjamas all bleary eyed and I feel even more stupid than I did in the first place because as well as insulting your name I've woken you up in the middle of the night."

"You didn't really wake me. Well, you did, but I would have had to get up in a little while anyway and feed RJ. Do you have somewhere to sleep?"

"Was gonna drive back to LA. That or find a motel and kip a few hours. Think my body clock's still on tour time but now you've gone and mentioned sleeping I'm starting to feel tired."

"If I offer you the couch will you promise not to murder us all in your sleep?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die," He smiled softly. Did this mean she was really forgiving him?

Buffy waved him inside and into the living room. She waited until he was a few steps away before closing the door and when her face was to the closed wooden door, quietly told herself that she must be out of her mind.

Spike heard her but ignored her muttering. He was too busy floating on cloud nine. She had accepted his apology and had been invited into her home.

"You know, this doesn't mean I'm saying yes to going out with you, just, the last thing I need is to be held responsible for some famous rock star dozing off at the wheel, that's all."

"Well 'famous rock star' might be pushing it a bit. I'm not exactly Bono."

"But people have heard of you and stuff? I mean, if the press follow you around..."

"They take photos if they see me. Its mostly not too bad. I behave myself, got no family. Not much interest in me cause of that. What about you and family? Can I ask who this 'RJ' is?"

"Riley Junior, my son."

"I don't need to worry about his Dad beating me up or something, do I?"

"No."

"Good to know."

"My little sister, you might see her in the morning. She lives with us. I mean, I look after her. If she knows who you are and gets all nosey or something you can tell her to mind her own business. Dawn can get a little...well...she's fifteen."

"Ah," Spike nodded. He had met enough fifteen year old fans to know all about their potential for ear piercing screams, talking your ear off, tantrums, mood swings and everything else. Whatever he had expected with Buffy, he hadn't betted on a teenage sister. Kids in the abstract sense, yes, but this was unexpected and made him feel slightly apprehensive.

"She's alright, really. She just gets a bit over-excited sometimes."

Spike tried to be reassured, he really did, but in the end he decided it was best to try and think about something else. "Well then if the offer still stands I'd really appreciate the use of your couch for a bit of kip. Promise I'll be out of your hair in the morning."

"Good. Great. I'll just go and get you a blanket."

He sat down on his makeshift bed and watched Buffy disappear up the stairs. She returned soon after a warm blanket in one hand and a pillow in the other. He rose to take them from her and wasn't sorry to find them standing so close they were nearly touching.

"Thanks, Buffy." He smiled down at her, his voice a sexy whisper that sent Buffy's stomach fluttering about in her belly in an almost forgotten manner, it had been so long since she'd reacted to a man like that – apart from the time William had kissed her at the end of their first meeting but since what happened that night seemed so unbelievable she wasn't really counting it. She looked up at him, feeling drawn to his eyes and she could see such passion in them that all her hopes and vulnerabilities and fears about allowing things to happen with him came swimming to the surface in response. She could tell that he wanted to kiss her again, but she was relieved when he didn't make the move.

"William...Spike...I'm not sure that I know how to do this. I don't even know what I'm supposed to call you."

"Whatever you want, love," Unable to resist, he ran a hand through her beautiful golden locks and stared warmly at her wide, vulnerable eyes hoping to reassure her.

Buffy blushed. It had been a long time since a guy had touched her so intimately. As tempting as it was to give in though, she knew she needed space to think and work out what she wanted from him – and whaat she would be willing to give.

She pulled back.

"I'll see you in the morning, William."

And with one last lingering look she was gone, and Spike was left alone in the dark, the ghost of her silken hair still tickling his palm and his warm reaction to her unattended for another night.

Author's Note: Spuffyness! : D (It would have been too cruel to make you wait another chapter!)


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: Finally got this done. Sorry its taken a while, but I think its a good chapter now that its finally done but I'd love to hear what my lovely readers think – even criticism, as long as its constructive. (No flames please!) Once more its not betaed and all mistakes are my own and I'm changing the rating from K+ to T just because of more mature themes and swearing. Every site has their own system and I get a bit confused with the different rating systems but I figure its best to err on the side of caution.  
_

_William gets an insight into Buffy's world as a parent and then gets the wrong end of the stick._

The scream that awoke Spike the following morning was the sort of ear-piercing sound that could only come from a teenage girl and since Buffy lived with her teenage sister, it didn't take him long to figure out who he was about to meet.

"Oh my God, Oh my God, oh my God!"

Somewhat reluctantly, Spike opened his eyes and found himself face to face with a pretty young girl with long chestnut-brown hair and blue eyes. With one look at her he could see she was nearly bouncing off the walls with excitement and he suspected she was barely holding back another scream. Although the colour of her face and eyes were different to her sister, the features of her face bore a familial resemblance to Buffy and he knew immediately his hunch was right.

"You must be Dawn," He croaked hoarsely. Spike rubbed his eyes and began to sit up. He peeled back the blanket that he had used as a cover and swung his socked feet down onto the floor. Not unexpectedly, he found his legs stiff from having slept in his black denim jeans. His favourite pair of black leather boots were sat by the couch where he had left them and he slipped his feet into them and began tying up the laces, grateful for the chance to evade eye contact. Seeing screaming fans held back by massive security barriers was one thing, but up close and personal it made him uncomfortable and yet she was Buffy's sister and knew he would have to put up with her.

"Dawn?" Buffy's voice echoed through from a neighbouring room. "Does he want coffee?"

"_You're _William?" Dawn asked, incredulous.

"Is that a problem?" He replied, glancing up at her briefly before returning to fuss over his bootlaces which suddenly seemed infinitely preferable to facing her.

"You kissed my sister!"

"I suppose I did," He acknowledged.

At that moment Buffy's voice echoed through once again. "Dawn? Can you just ask him already? I have to see to RJ!"

Dawn crossed her arms and stared down at him with an unimpressed and uncompromising stare. "You better not be screwing her around!"

A smile that could almost have been called affectionate crept onto his face at that and he tilted his head sideways to look up at her. "Well, aren't you an Itty Bitty Buffy? You don't pull your punches in this family do you?" Before Dawn could reply Buffy wandered into the far end of the room, a baby wearing only a bright red terry cloth diaper cuddled against one shoulder. "Dawn..." Buffy began.

Spike visibly saw Dawn rolling her eyes and then look down at him. It displeased him. Her sister was working hard, the girl ought to show a bit of appreciation for everything Buffy was doing.

"I'm supposed to ask you if you want any coffee," Dawn eventually told him ungracefully.

"I'd love some, but only if its not too much trouble," He replied, unsure if he should be looking at Dawn or Buffy and ended up flicking between the two.

"Its not too much trouble," Buffy assured him, coming a bit closer. "Dawn can you take RJ? I don't want to risk him getting burned. Then you seriously need to get dressed or you're going to miss the bus again."

Dawn rolled her eyes again and Spike couldn't stand by any longer. He stood up from the couch and stepped into the room, putting himself between the two sisters. He could see this was the sort of thing that could get very bad very quickly on a grouchy morning.

"Why don't I take him? And Dawn can go now and get dressed," Spike suggested.

Dawn, standing in 'Little Miss...' pyjamas looked relieved. Buffy frowned at her sister's happiness. After all, it didn't seem like such a big thing, to ask her to hold RJ for long enough to pour a cup of coffee from the percolator! But Dawn was already dashing up the stairs, no doubt eager to be dressed as quickly and sluttily as possible in order to impress Mr Handsome Rockstar Guy. Now that she was gone though Buffy got a good look at Spike in daylight for the first time.

He was wearing simple black jeans and a white t-shirt that just made his darker nipples visible through the pale fabric in the morning light where it stretched across his pectorals. His arms, too, were nicely muscled in a hot-dancer sort of way, rather than being over-muscled a footballer sort of way. Moving down, his jeans were just a bit too small, going taught across his thighs as he moved and moulding neatly around his crotch which was bulging slightly beneath the stiff fabric. The creases of the denim at his groin only drew attention to the 'morning' situation and she looked away, embarrassed at the prospect of being caught looking but grateful that her sister was apparently still innocent enough not to have noticed. Buffy could only hope that stayed the situation for a while longer. Dawn wasn't stupid enough to just have sex with the first guy who asked and she was infinitely relieved that her sister hadn't appeared to be flirting with William, but Buffy knew how precocious some of her sister's peers were and it just seemed to her that Dawn might try and grow up too quickly to keep up with them by doing the wrong things. In Buffy's opinion Dawn had a lot of maturing and growing up to do before Buffy would feel comfortable trusting her about anything to do with sex. She was at that stage where she still thought it was a bit 'Eeew!' but was starting to get curious about what the deal was and Buffy couldn't help but worry, as the adult responsible for her sister, that things might go very quickly down the wrong road.

She stopped herself. It was too early in the morning for such deep thoughts, even if her sister might right this very minute be looking out the sluttiest outfit she owned, which she had better not be!

Buffy sighed and turned around. Over her shoulder she mumbled an invitation and returned to the kitchen, Spike trailing behind. Typical, she thought. She couldn't even oggle a hot guy – a hot, interested, guy – without her mind wandering off to the mundane, everyday troubles that seemed ever-present in her life...and yet she was as terrified at Dawn finding herself pregnant as she would be if Dawn were her daughter and not her sister, because apart from the damage it might do to Dawn's future, Buffy knew there was not enough money to stretch to feeding another mouth. They barely got by as it was.

Buffy felt a presence behind her and half turned around. He was standing just beside her in the doorway, raking his hands through his ruffled bed-hair. "Uh, good morning, by the way," She greeted him shyly. "I hope Dawn wasn't annoying you."

"Not at all, pet."

"You don't need to lie, you know. I know what she can be like. I'm still hoping she'll grow out of it."

"I expect she's just being a teenager, pet. Nothing to worry about. Are you sure its no bother for me to have a cup of coffee? I can just go, if you'd rather."

"No, no its fine. Its actually sort of a novelty having another adult around. Not that I want to give you the wrong idea because I'm still not sure about you, but I think you might just have saved me a huge argument back there." Buffy told him.

Spike watched her move around the kitchen. After a moment she came over to him and it was clear that she expected him to hold RJ for a minute. He took the boy tentatively, gripping the boy under the arms and holding him away from his body.

"He doesn't bite, you know," Buffy smiled at him.

"Well no offence, love, but I've watched too many films where they pee all over you at this point to trust the little slugger. Not that I'm an expert exactly but I can't say I'm filled with confidence what with him only wearing a cloth nappy."

"Nappy?"

"What you Yanks call diapers. Thought most folks used disposables these days."

"Most folks do."

"Don't these ones just, you know, soak through?" Spike asked. If he was going to be holding the kid he wanted to know what the risks were. Besides, he was mildly curious. He'd never realised there was any debate about what you should put your baby's bottom in and he had to admit, the red colour was sort of cool. Question was, did they really work?

"You really don't know anything do you?"

"Nope," Spike smiled and chuckled light-heartedly when RJ made a face at him. Buffy however was glaring at him almost enviously and it made his eyes smile. She was so adorable when she was making a fuss. "Alright then, I'm all ears. Two minutes on the pros and cons of cloth diapers and if he pees all over this shirt I'm stealing one of yours!"

Buffy smiled. It was nice, for once, to be the one in the know instead of always being the one trying to keep up with everyone else. Unable to afford to fix the broken coffee machine, she went about preparing a French Cafetiere style coffee maker that Willow and Tara had once given her as a gift.

"Well for a start, no they don't leak. They're really absorbent and I'm pretty sure they're more comfortable. I mean, would you rather wear those plastic disposable things or nice, soft, cotton undies?"

"Bloody hell! I never thought about it like that."

"I know, right? I read it on this website once and it seemed so obvious when I read it. But honestly? Mostly I just use them cause they're so much cheaper. I mean, I could tell you all this stuff about how its good its for the environment or how he sleeps better in cloth diapers or how they come in all these cool colours and they leak a lot less, but honestly its mostly its just a money thing. I mean, I'm glad RJ's comfortable and everything, but even though they're more expensive to buy at the outset, once you have them you just keep shoving them in the washing machine so you only need enough to do you maybe a week, you don't need to keep buying them. I did all the sums and its going to be hundreds of dollars cheaper using these than disposables would be and right now I really need to watch the nickels and dimes; and I didn't know this when I started out but apparently some doctors think disposables might cause low male fertility."

Spike choked. _"What?"_

"Something about how the plastic makes their testicles get too hot or stops them from cooling down, or something. I guess they must think it could cause damage but I'm not exactly a doctor so I wouldn't really know the evidence on that. Mostly its like I said. Its like, hundreds of dollars cheaper to use cloth ones instead of disposables. RJ seems to like them, and what's totally good is they all have snappers now so there's no sharp pins involved. Using your child as a pin cushion isn't so hot with social services..." Buffy stopped and turned around from where she had filled the electric kettle and switched it on and found William trying to hold a wriggling RJ in one arm while trying to dial his cell phone with the other. "Okay, what did I say? What are you doing?"

"I'm calling my Doctor, and then my mum." William stopped dialling and shook his head. "No, mother first, then the Doctor."

Buffy couldn't help it, she giggled. She knew it wasn't a laughing matter for him but she'd had no idea that he would react this way, it was just some doctor's theory and William looked so serious standing there sending death glares at his uncooperative with RJ wriggling in his arms, red diaper contrasting with William's white t-shirt and dark jeans.

"Its not bloody funny!" He looked up sharply. "What if mum put _me _in disposables. What if...I mean, how many blokes go and shoot in those cups and get themselves tested? I could have...oh, bloody hell!" Spike hung up the cell phone. He was too worked up now to hold a calm conversation with his mum, so he held out the boy and looked at the little mite in his arms which almost at once calmed him down. RJ was smiling. At him. It was a window into a world he had never given much thought to before but seeing that look of innocent wonder and adoration was mind blowing. He almost jumped when Buffy spoke once more, drawing him back to the rest of the world.

"William, I'm sure your fine, but just in case, I say serious health problems have to wait until we're on an actual, proper date. I mean, RJ's young still but Dawn's coming down soon you know and RJ's one thing but you're still sort of a stranger."

"I should start taking notes, at this rate. Sex talk, third date. Health talk, fourth date."

"In a hypothetical situation I think most girls prefer the 'I have something health-related to talk about' talk happens _before _the sex talk happens, especially if said talk is followed up by actual sex."

"Duly noted," Spike smirked. She was blushing. Bloody hell, she was adorable, but still... "You do realise I'm going to be worrying about that until I can get to my doctor in LA?"

"You're not serious."

Spike nodded and Buffy rolled her eyes. Clearly she thought he was being melodramatic and he decided it was probably best to let the subject drop. He took a stool at the breakfast bar and sat the little bloke down on his knee. He'd known she was a mum. Had accepted it from the start but he'd honestly never given much thought to what that actually meant. Diapers, sleepless nights, regular feeds and all of it, every little bit, might affect his life in the future. It was a lot of responsibility, more so than he realised. RJ's life was literally in Buffy's hands and not just the literalness of his present safety and comfort. Every choice Buffy was making about RJ at this stage might affect his future in some way. She was doing her best to give him the best she could give him within her difficult life. It made his own worries seem a bit less significant and he calmed down, if only by putting the thoughts worrying his brain to the back burner for a while.

He phased back into what she was saying and found that across the counter, Buffy was now into a roll and was continuing to tell him all he would ever need to know about something he'd always thought was as simple as Pampers or Huggies.

"...its just a bit confusing at first, you know, cause there are all these different types. Some have these sort of pad things that slot in the bottom and some have the absorbency built in, and some are totally waterproof and some you need to use a cover, and then there are all the different types of fastenings and different styles and sometimes you find you like this one but it doesn't come in different colours or RJ likes that one but its too expensive to buy as many as you need and..." Buffy trailed off. "...and I'm totally boring you to death here. Oh my God! What is wrong with me? I'm talking your ear off about _diapers_?!"

"Relax, Pet. Its sort of interesting actually. I mean, its not the sort of thing you usually think about but I'd no idea it was so bleedin' complicated! If its that hard picking diapers how do you know which car seat to get? Or stroller, or formula?" He looked down again at RJ. The little man was sitting there innocently, waving his arms and grinning idiotically without a care in the world. Lucky devil.

"Well one of those at least, is easy. I don't have a car so I didn't bother getting a car seat. He has his bouncer in the corner there and he's pretty happy with that most of the time and I got a stroller and he won't be needing formula for another two months."

He looked up confused, until comprehension dawned. His eyes fell to her breasts, then he blushed at so obviously looking. What, had he thought he'd be able to tell? He decided it was safest to concentrate on RJ instead.

"Money, again?"

"Yeah. The health workers say you should breast feed for six months but a lot of mom's stop after just a couple. I know breast is supposed to be best but I can understand. On the one hand its really intimate but it can be uncomfortable and even sore, especially if you get thrush, and there's always a little part of you that wouldn't mind having your body back even though you know there's supposed to be all these positives but, you know," Buffy shrugged, "Its alright." She blushed again. "Sorry, TMI."

Spike supported the boy on his knee. His hair was wispy still, but looked to be coming through fair. His chubby fingers waved in the air and in a fit of excitement, stuffed one in his mouth and slobbered. He whimpered a bit and looked at Buffy.

"He seems to be doing alright. I can see it might be a bit difficult to live an independent life though, if you have to feed baby every few hours. Why's he sticking his hands in his mouth like that?"

"He's just got his first tooth, he's still curious about it." Buffy was finished now and poured the coffee. "I'm sorry, you probably didn't want to talk about baby stuff."

"Don't apologise. I said I wanted to get to know you and this is your life. You're a mum and I'm just realising its this whole other world. Ordinary, you know. Its refreshing." Spike didn't look up as he spoke but was engrossed in RJ again and Buffy could see her son was enjoying the attention. When Spike offered him a finger RJ grabbed it in a fist and began playing with the fingers of his hand.

"You're good with him," Buffy said quietly after watching the two of them for a moment. RJ rarely saw strangers but he seemed strangely happy with Spike considering they had only just met.

"Honest to God, Pet, I don't have a clue what I'm doing."

"Well whatever you're doing, keeping doing it. Coffee's ready," Buffy told him. She poured two mugs from the coffee pot and slid one across to him. She turned back around to clear everything away and then came around the counter to get RJ and keep him away from the hot drink she had just given Spike, just to be safe.

"Thanks," Spike sent her a smile. "Have to admit I'm not much good without a good dose of coffee. More of an evening person than a morning person," He explained.

"Don't mention it! I can't remember the last time I had a lie in," Buffy groused.

At that point Dawn came bounding into the kitchen fully dressed and now that she was downstairs, Spike finally hoped he might be able to nip upstairs to the bathroom without the danger of any thought of impropriety from Dawn being upstairs at the same time.

"You ladies mind if I use your loo?"

"Our what?" Buffy asked back.

"Bathroom, Pet. Restroom. Gents...Lavatory..."

"Upstairs on the left," Dawn jumped in with a grin that was scarily bright for so early in the morning. Dawn was sucking up to him again, Buffy thought, but at least she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. It might be exactly what Spike was wearing but at least they were wearing appropriate clothes for her going to school. Both adults guessed the teen was trying to win his favour by being helpful but he looked to Buffy to check. This was her house, her rules. She jerked her head towards the stairs, he guessed so that Dawn didn't kick up at fuss at them going over her head. "And your duster is on the stair rail," Dawn added drawing his attention back to her.

"Right then. Just going to fetch a razor from the car." He took her hint and left the room. Buffy, carrying RJ, stepped into the kitchen doorway and watched him pick up his duster. The front door opened and closed and then after a minute or so opened and closed again and William's footsteps could be heard moving up the stairs.

While William was upstairs relieving himself, Buffy snatched the coffee out of her sister's grasp and diverted her attention to the fruit juice. While RJ sat in her lap she and Dawn ate cereal and chatted about William and school. Her own coffee she left until RJ could be taken by Dawn or William. She could put him in his bouncer of course, but both RJ spent so many hours away from them each day Buffy liked to have him close whenever she could the rest of the time.

RJ was now taking a back seat though to Dawn's excitement William and obvious interest in dating Buffy.

"Please Dawn, don't tell people!"

"But Buffy, its totally cool! He's like, famous. Janice and her mom would be _so _jealous."

What, did they both fancy him? Buffy didn't want to think about that. "He's just a friend, Dawn, please. I know you think he's interested but I'm not ready to date yet and if I do, I don't want it all over the tabloids and glossy magazines of LA. If his band's album really was in the charts earlier this year they must be pretty popular and you know I couldn't deal with that pressure!"

Dawn sighed. "Alright, I'll keep quiet, because I love you, but you totally have to date him or I'll tell all my friends that he was here."

"Yeah, if you want to be grounded 'til Senior Homecoming dance," Buffy retorted.

"Hey! That is so unfair. You know, I only want you to be happy," Dawn grumbled, visibly upset that her sister was even thinking about being mean about this.

"I'm sorry, Dawn, I know I've not exactly been 'happy, cheerful Buffy' since Riley died but its taken me a long time to get to a place where I feel like I have a chance to get my own life in control and William seems like a nice guy, I know, but I have to put you and RJ first. What if I date him and then Social Services finds out he's a rock musician and think I'm exposing you two to sex, drugs and alcohol? Or some magazine photographs us and prints some story about his 'latest conquest' or how I have these kids that I left at home to go see him in LA and I'm a really terrible mother. He doesn't seem like the sort of guy to screw me around but then neither did Riley, but this is about more than William. Even if he is straight laced Social Services aren't doing so well right now after they completely failed to monitor that Caleb guy and he got to those kids and in case you haven't noticed, the woman who is supposed to be my case worker hasn't exactly come out on my side. Can't you see, they would go for a high profile case like someone connected to an up and coming musician to make it seem like they're still doing their job even if they're not? I can't afford to do anything that jeopardises keeping custody of you. I'm not definitely saying no to dating him, but I need to think it over carefully before saying yes. Can you understand that."

Dawn was disappointed but she understood. It was easy to forget though, mostly cause she didn't even want to think about being taken away from Buffy but the conversation moved on to giggling over television dramas and cnce Dawn was finished her cereal she took RJ and played with him, making silly faces and bouncing him on her knee while Buffy drank her coffee. By the time Buffy was finished with her drink William's footsteps could be heard on the stair and she surreptitiously watched him as he walked along the hall and into the kitchen. He was wearing a black t-shirt now she noticed, which she guess he had brought in from the car. She wondered where the white one had gone and lamented no longer being able to see his tight pecs and dark nipples through the pale fabric.

As he came into the room he smiled at her almost shyly and unspeaking, went straight for his coffee which had cooled somewhat in the time he'd been in the bathroom. He picked it up without speaking and drank it down in long gulps then shook his head.

"Urgh! Cold coffee!"

"Why'd you drink it then?" Dawn asked.

"Cause unlike you, some of us only got a couple of hours kip last night and I need the caffeine."

"And whose fault is that?" Buffy asked him with a hint of teasing in her voice.

He looked at her. Was she flirting? He smiled at the thought and shrugged casually. "My own, I guess," He admitted, "But I think it was worth it. You will call me, won't you?" He asked hopefully. "I'd call you but I think your schedule's busier than mine but if you reverse charge it that won't matter."

"I, uh..." Buffy wasn't sure whether he was being serious or funny...and if he wasn't being serious she _so _didn't need his charity.

"Reverse charge it, really," Spike urged her. "Save your quarters for something important."

Still he could see that Buffy was hesitant. "Stop looking at me like that! Its not charity, Buffy, its selfishness. I want to be able to talk to you when it suits you without your mind wondering off and worrying about the bills," he said and then suddenly changed the subject mid-flow before it could develop into an arguement. "I have to get my jacket," He told her, and stepped out of the kitchen into the living room where he had left the waist-length jacket he had arrived in last night. Dawn trailed after him, trying to be helpful once again. She couldn't believe there was a real, signed, rock band lead musician standing here in her house. He and Oz were on local radio all the time and their album had been in the top forty at one point. They'd even been on MTV a few times.

His biker jacket was where he'd left it on the sofa and Spike slipped his arms in and shrugged it on, then checked the pockets for his wallet, keys and cell phone. Dawn ducked back in and related this in a hushed whisper to her sister. It didn't take a genius to see he was about to take his leave and Buffy realised she would be sorry to see him go. Before she could linger on the thought however, RJ's face scrunched up and then his diaper became warm and just as Spike began to wander back toward the kitchen, now wearing his jacket, RJ began to whimper in discomfort.

"I'm sorry, the diaper thing has suddenly moved from a hypothetical issue to an actual issue but I want to say goodbye properly. Can you wait here with Dawn while I go upstairs and change him?" The changing things were in the bathroom upstairs. She held RJ and tried to comfort him even as she knew he was working his way up to loud, wailing cries.

Spike glanced at Dawn and then Buffy and nodded but as Buffy made her way upstairs she heard him suggest they wait in the hall by the door. "I'll be leaving in just a minute," He reasoned, although Buffy suspected he was still a bit worried about Dawn's behaviour. Buffy trusted her sister, but she had been fifteen once too. Dawn was jailbait and even if he didn't want anything at all to do with her in that way, any allegations of wrongdoing from someone of Dawn's age could be extremely damaging. She couldn't blame him for wanting to err on the side of caution and standing at the foot of the stairs where Buffy could easily hear them with the bathroom door open.

Upstairs she laid RJ down on the changing mat and unfastened his diaper. She disposed of it into the plastic trash bag marked 'soiled things' and began cleaning RJ with wipes then when he was clean, picked up a clean diaper, this time a pale green one, and laid it out underneath RJ's cleaned bottom and began fastening it up. As she moved to dispose of the wipes in the bin she noticed a bundle of white cotton sitting in it with a disposable razor on top. Each used probably only once and now discarded, unneeded. Once Buffy herself might have done that. Now she was so used to using everything over and over until it fell apart that it seemed a complete waste to only use a razor once or wear a t-shirt once and then throw it out.

Would he throw her out too, if she gave him the chance to use her?

She threw the thought away. It was useless thinking such thoughts. She couldn't be a total cynic or she'd never get anywhere in life. William wouldn't have driven all the way from LA in the middle of the night if all he had in mind was using her, unless he'd been hoping for some nookie when he turned up, but then he had happily taken the couch so that didn't make sense either.

She washed her hands and then looked at the clock and realised that as soon as Dawn left for school and William returned to LA she would have to get RJ for Mrs McCluskey and grab her own things for work. Buffy walked out of the bathroom and stopped at the top of the stairs. She could hear Dawn quizzing William about music and decided she might get away with being absent for another few minutes. As fast as she could, she took RJ into his room, which had once been her own room, and began dressing him into a baby grow. She was just wrestling his waving arms into the garment when the doorbell rang loudly downstairs.

"Dawn, can you get that?" Buffy shouted, hoping her sister would hear her. It was early for anyone to call by but it might be Xander trying to be helpful and give Dawn a ride, but Buffy had thought he was working out of town all this week which was the whole reason she was making her sister get the hated school bus in the first place.

She heard the squeak of the door as it opened and was eager to finish getting RJ dressed but the more urgent the task, the more RJ seemed intent on making it difficult. There was no use getting angry, she knew, so she turned her frustration into persistence and after finally winning she picked up her dressed son and walked out of the room towards the top of the stairs. As she got closer the voices downstairs got louder but the third voice wasn't one that she knew and it had her perplexed. She had thought the visitor might be Xander, but this sounded like a woman, and not Willow or Tara either.

Making her way down the staircase, Buffy was arrested by the sight of her Social Services case worker standing just inside the door staring at Dawn standing on the second to bottom step looking, she realised, as if she'd just come down and Spike standing in the middle of the hall, speechless, holding the door open as if he owned the place. Unfortunately her evil case worker had come to exactly that conclusion as Buffy feared she would from observing the scene below her and William apparently didn't appreciate being on the end of the woman's assumptions.

"What exactly are you implying?" He demanded.

"Well as I'm _sure _you're aware, Mrs Finn is required to report any change in her living conditions or relationship status to Social Services as one of the terms of her guardianship of her sister."

Buffy descended the stairs as fast as she could without falling. Who did this woman think she was? _'Jezebel' _rang in Buffy's head but she didn't dare say it. Instead she launched herself into the middle of the conversation, hoping to God that William wouldn't ask too many questions.

"William! You're here! I really appreciate you helping out like this. With Xander working out of town all this week I thought Dawn was going to have to walk to school."

William opened and closed his mouth for a long moment before finally finding his tongue. "School. Right. Well its no problem," He played along. Who the fuck was this 'Xander'? Buffy hadn't given any indication she was seeing someone. Had all of this been under false pretences? There was no time to linger though, apparently, because Dawn grabbed her school bag which was sitting on the stair and skipped past the hateful woman and out the door.

"And talking of school we sort of have to get going or I'm going to be late," Dawn urged. She did not want to get caught up talking to that hateful Social Services woman. Dawn swore the bitch totally had it in for them. "Bye, Buffy. Bye RJ."

William was unsure of himself. He was less enthusiastic than Dawn about saying goodbye and stepping outside he was nervous about being stuck in a car with Buffy's fifteen year old sister. Not that he didn't trust Buffy's judgement, but fifteen year old girls could be bloody forward when they wanted to be and he'd had many a bruise to prove it during the tour. Besides, he wanted to stay and spend more time with Buffy but the bitch with the clipboard and the severe stick up her ass had turned up asking all these nosey questions and he didn't want to screw things up for Buffy by saying what he wanted to say, none of which was polite. From the manor and tenor of the questions, his guess was that Social didn't think Buffy could do look after her sister properly, which was obviously complete bullshit, and had it in for Buffy Summers. No, that wasn't what the woman had called her, she had called her Mrs Finn. She was _married?!_ What about her being a single mother? If Xander and Buffy were so cosy that he took Dawn to school every day, Xander was probably her husband! No wonder the SS bitch had been asking questions about their relationship! She had lied to him! All along Buffy had been portraying herself as penniless single mother and now he was finding out she was married all this time! Was she just assuming he was going to be her guy on the side? Had she been leading him along with lies all this time?

"See you later, _Mrs Finn. _Send my regards to _Xander._" He spoke in a low tone of repressed anger and looked her straight in the eye.

Xander. Mrs Finn. As William closed the door a much harder than necessary, Buffy realised she had some explaining to do.

AN: The male fertility thing I read on a pro-cloth-diaper website. Not sure how true it is but I wanted to put it in there just to get Spike's reaction! :P


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: Its taken me a while to get this written but I think its been worth taking time over it. This chapter is all about Spike and Dawn's relationships which will be an important element of the story but in the series we never see them become friends. I wanted to take my time and try to get the dynamic right between them so that they were strangers getting to know each other but on the path to that sort of sibling-friendship relationship they have in the show. _

William listened to Dawn babbling endlessly, nonsensically, as he cruised the streets of Sunnydale, following her occasional instructions to go 'left here' or 'straight on' that intermittently interrupted the constant stream of words flowing forth from her mouth. He was too angry, too enraged at being screwed around, too caught up in his on little world to realise that she was actually telling him about Buffy's previous relationships.

"...but it was, like, a total disaster, because Parker turned out to be just like Angel, only where Angel was all mean and stuff, Parker pretended to be all 'we can still be friends' even though he'd totally duped her into sleeping with him by pretending he was interested in a relationship which he totally wasn't..."

Now was not the time. He did not need to hear about all the other men who had passed through Buffy Summers' life when he had just found out that she was married.

"...anyway, I'm pretty sure that's why she said yes when Riley proposed cause he was, like, this conservative gent guy and all moralistic and everything except that she totally shouldn't have married him cause I'm pretty sure Buffy didn't really love him..."

_'Wait. She married Riley? Her son _is_ called Riley Junior – but then who the hell is this Xander guy?'_

He was inexorably confused and was desperate to ask Dawn why she had introduced herself to him as Buffy 'Summers' even though the social worker had called Buffy 'Mrs Finn', but he restrained himself. He shouldn't get Dawn involved in this, it was something that had to be straightened out with Buffy directly.

"Dawn, stop!"

She closed her mouth and looked at him. "What?"

"I appreciate the heads up, but if Buffy wants to tell me about her dating history, that's her business."

"I just don't want you to think that she doesn't like you," Dawn told him. "She's just cautious cause she's been hurt before."

"Can we talk about something else?" He pleaded. It wasn't very manly, but he wasn't feeling like he had a lot of pull in this conversation. Summers women were a force of nature, it appeared. "How about you tell me about school," He suggested, and she was off again, chattering away about teachers and boys and other girls in her class as if she didn't have a care in the world. As he listened to Dawn talk he looked around him and took in the small town of Sunnydale with its suburban streets and quiet town centre as they made their way across town to Sunnydale High.

From what he had seen of it, it seemed that there wasn't much to the town. A dilapidated zoo on the outskirts he had passed on his way into Sunnydale last night; a small museum; a town centre with a few local shops that had not yet been driven under by the large commercial park in the neighbouring town. Most of the town was suburbia, the sort of place where twenty years ago, the more well-paid of Los Angeles' work force might have kept houses to get away from the busy lives and suburban sprawl of the big city, preferring the quirky, small-town life that Sunnydale offered with its interesting local shops and the coast just a short drive west of town. Of course, that was twenty years ago. The place had long since been knocked off the coveted 'good place to live' spot by the many, exclusive, beach-side developments that were springing up along the coast. They were selling like hot cakes to California's latest group of Yuppies making money off everything from crude oil to green energy. Alongside the quarterly reports of oil company profits, stories were always popping up about farmers switching from growing crops to renting out their land for solar panels, or the latest environmentally friendly car that was exclusively available in California. Sunnydale seemed a world away from all of that. Not even Starbucks seemed to think it was worth investing in Sunnydale. He hadn't seen a single green-logo cup since he'd arrived.

Naturally, he loved the place.

Sure, there wasn't exactly a lot to do here compared with LA but there wasn't the lights and glitz and glamour and false pretences that riddled LA's socialite circle either. There wasn't much of a social elite here at all. Even the media were absent. There was no twenty four hour media cycle in _Sunnydale._ Buffy didn't even have a cell phone. There might have been a daily newspaper maybe, or a local cable show put together by a few enthusiastic college kids but nothing like the hoards of journalists that swarmed around LA. There were no international paparazzi scrums in _this _town and while he had never been interesting enough off the stage to attract a huge press interest, even for someone at the edge of the limelight, the clean-living small town life of this place was like being baptised in holy water compared to the daily iniquities that swirled around the elite circles of LA like bloodied water in a dirty sink. Sunnydale, from what he had seen of it, was a place insulated from all the hated things that made his life unbearably crazy. WereWolves were not a _hugely_ popular band, but they were well known enough now that people who did know them were always excited to see them, and reporters were always sniffing around the clubs and parties of Los Angeles in the hope of catching a juicy story about drugs or affairs or other misdemeanours. The occasional public display of laddish drunkenness or rerunning, yet again, the 'revealing' interviews with one night stands that he had mistakenly taken to bed in the band's early years, after the double betrayal of Cecily and then Dru, were not the scandalous magazine-selling stories the seedy hacks wanted from their local rock bands. The interviews said he was sexy, very well-hung and liked things kinky. He was a 'demon' between the sheets, they said. He knew how to satisfy and he always slept naked.

Some of it was true. Some of it wasn't.

Spike might like playing the sexy lewd 'vampire' on stage but wasn't about to go on Oprah and tell the world his home truths: that he was playing Spike with those girls as well, that he wasn't hung like a porn star, he just knew what to do with it and that his favourite bit about having sex was something he didn't share with the predatory women who had used him as much, if not more, than he used them. It was being with a woman he loved, it was warm hugs every time you came home, it was cuddling up afterwards in post-coital bliss after hours of making sweet, languorous love.

Spike smiled wryly to himself. A bloke could dream after all. Cecily, the girl who he'd dated in college as the band's reputation grew, had wanted him to prove his love with expensive gifts, until he'd realise she was hanging onto his coat tails and only wanted him for his money. Dru had come next and things had been good for a while – until he realised that he was being used because he made her look good and she was seeing a half dozen other guys and a couple of girls on the side.

After twice being screwed around, the female fans and models and actresses throwing themselves at him in their dozens every time he went out on stage or to some event had seemed like the perfect solution to all of his problems.

It was, for a while. He liked sex as much as the next bloke, but what he really craved was love. It was what he'd always wanted. William, the man he was with Buffy, was a sweet romantic who just wanted to be loved. Spike wanted fucking, sex, to come and make women come as they writhed beneath him or on top of him or anywhere, really, but pretending that the softer, emotive parts did not exist had only led to frustration and loneliness as the band's fame grew and his interest in emotionless sex had waned as his yearning to be loved and wanted grew. He had thrown himself into his work but this last tour had exhausted him and seemed unbearably lonely. At times he had felt like he was destined never to be loved...and then on the way to the last gig of the tour Buffy had appeared, a vision of fire and light in the darkened parking lot of a small town 7Eleven. Now, with Buffy, he finally felt brave enough to let the mask fall and be himself around a girl. He finally let himself wonder if yes, he could be loved and accepted as William and not just the persona he'd created for giving himself confidence as part of the band on stage.

The very notion of being out of the limelight for a short while and able to pursue things from Buffy while that was the case, was immensely appealing. This was not something he wanted to share with the world, but it was something they would want to know, he knew. Everything the media had on him was old news and there weren't a lot of people around them while they were off the tour. Certainly not anyone who thought it worth their jobs to start talking about the band members' private lives, or what they knew of it. On the one hand it meant there were fewer chances of leaks. On the other hand it meant a greater chance of reporters following him hoping for a story. No, he couldn't think like that or he would get paranoid. Occasionally he'd get random phone calls from reporters, fishing for small stories on slow days but most of the time things between him and the media were predictable and most of the interview he gave now he managed to keep focused on the music. It was known that he worked hard and concentrated on his music and Oz had a steady girlfriend. On the whole, there wasn't a huge amount of private life worth talking about and having thought about it, Spike let himself hope that he would be able to pursue Buffy in private once the whole mess with Riley and Xander sorted itself out. Maybe she really was single. Separated, or divorced. Maybe Riley had left. He had to admit there were no signs of a guy living in the house and she hadn't given the impression or let anything slip that indicated she was involved with anyone. Her whole life seemed to revolve around RJ and Dawn.

As they approached the school he could see kids riding around on skateboards. Had they somehow missed the fact that the world had crashed through into the new millennium and scooters were now the 'it' thing in most of the rest of the world?

All the while, Dawn chattered away in the background, eager to take her only chance at sharing all the interesting teenage things going on in her life with the uber-cool musician she seemed to think he was.

Dawn. Buffy's sister. Yet another thing where Spike found himself having to reconsider his preconceived notions. When he had first learned of Dawn's existence he had immediately jumped to the conclusion that she would be like all the other obsessive, slightly deranged, hyper teenage girls with their scanty, jail-bait clothing and screams high enough to pop your ear drums. Dawn was still a teenage girl. She babbled incessantly, she wore clingy, low-cut tops even if she didn't flash as much flesh as some others her age did but on the whole he realised he had been wrong to judge her so quickly. Her babbling for instance wasn't on a par with the high pitched screeching he got from the air-headed young secretary at the record company, for example, or the hotel maids who fawned over him at every city he stopped over in. It was cute. Childish. It made her come across as an ordinary, excitable kid who admittedly had the expected hormones but who also still possessed a reassuring level of naïvité for her age. She talked endlessly and without pause, obviously relishing the change to talk interrupted. Glancing at her, he saw her wide eyes danced as as she chattered away with an honest openness that belied that fact that they did not do this all the time. He had to admit he found himself endeared by her. Dawn was so like her sister, and yet she was also her own person. He imagined it wouldn't be hard to like her. She had fire in her eyes, just like Buffy and yet there was an innocence, a child-like quality that had not yet deserted her.

From what he had picked up from her incessant stream of words and from what he had seen of her life so far she didn't have many friends of her own or much in the way of money for school or other things. She was clearly intelligent, just like Buffy, but 'Melissa' and 'Janice' seemed to be her two closest friends and other than that she mostly talked about Tara, Xander and Willow, occasionally mentioning some other girl called Anya. All, as far as he could tell, were friends of Buffy from her own high school days.

When she finally took a pause to breathe, Spike figure he should at least make an attempt to be a part of the conversation instead of just letting it all pass him by. He went for something he hoped was a neutral sort of comment.

"So you like school then?"

"Some of it, I guess. I like art class, and English. Its the other people who make it suck."

Spike chuckled. Wasn't that always the way of it?

"That's life, Bit."

"Bit?" She scrunched up her nose in distaste. "What is that? Is it rude?"

"Short for 'Little Bitty Buffy'," He explained, repeating the nickname he had given her earlier that morning.

"You think I'm like Buffy?" Her eyes lit up cautiously. He tilted his head, wondering at the complete adoration in her eyes at the mention of her sister.

"Well, yeah. You remind me of her. Got her fire and you stick up for yourself. Seem like a good kid, mostly." Spike paused, glanced sideways. Smirked. Paused. "Can't help being a bitchy teenager."

"Hey!" She thumped him on the arm.

Spike's eyes twinkled cheekily, like a mischievous sibling and Dawn smiled. "She is sort of great. Just, don't tell her I said that cause sometimes she totally sucks. Like, _never _eat her cooking; and my allowance? Not that great. But she totally could have sent me off to live in Spain with Dad and his secretary when mom died and she didn't."

"She's something alright," Spike muttered quietly, part of him agreeing with Dawn's praise, another part of him still angry about the way he felt she had led him on. He cast it out of his mind. It wasn't worth lingering on right now. There would be plenty of time for that later.

Up ahead the huge looming building of Sunnydale High came into view.

"This is it," Dawn announced. "Just drop me off wherever."

He cruised along to the main steps, parked in the first space he saw and shut the engine off. Dawn did not get out at once, but sat in the passenger side for a few moments longer.

"Will I see you again?"

Spike turned to look at her and got drawn in by her wide, hopeful eyes. Had he misjudged. Had he been wrong to let his guard down and assume she had no interest. He tensed. His jaw twitched.

"Geez! Relax already! I'm not crushing on you, you're just way cool, and you don't treat me like a kid, and you listen."

He looked relieved and sighed quietly, but there was so much he didn't know and Buffy's life was obviously so complicated, he didn't know what way things were going to go.

"I honestly don't know, Dawn. Things with Buffy are complicated and I live in LA."

"I'll put in a good word for you. You're way better for her than Riley was."

"Riley's gone then? I wondered."

"Eleven months now."

"And Xander?"

"They're just friends," She reassured him.

Friends. A friend who just happened to go twenty minutes out of his way every morning to take Buffy's sister to school? It spoke of something else. If not at relationship, at least a contender for her affection. Bloody hell. Weren't there enough complications already? "I don't know..."

"Yes you do."

Spike tentatively turned his head to look at her, to see if he could work out the truth of her words from the look on her face. He was met with stubborn eyes, crossed arms, and an expression that said she wasn't getting out of his car until he admitted the truth.

"I don't know what to do, Dawn. I want to, I do, but it doesn't seem like she's ready to get into a relationship and yet I can't bloody stop thinking about her.! I don't even know her! And she doesn't know me!"

"I would have thought that you'd like someone who wasn't drooling all over the vampire guy you play on stage. I mean, on stage Spike is way cool but this you, the 'William' you, is all sweet and thoughtful and stuff. Buffy totally likes that."

"Yeah, well, always thought it would be great meeting some girl I fancied who didn't know anything about Spike an' now I'm bleedin' shitting myself. What is Buffy gonna think if she finds out what I'm like on stage?!"

"Its just an act. Even I know that."

"Buffy doesn't."

Dawn silently admitted she would have to agree. When Buffy saw the sweet guy she knew as William swearing lewdly, miming sex and strutting obstreperously around stage half-naked, she would totally freak. One option would be to just try and hide it, but when she found out she would never forgive him.

"You have to to tell her then."

"I can't. Not now. Not until I know her better."

"But-"

"No, Dawn. Getting to know someone is a gradual process. It takes time. I'm flattered you think I'm good enough for your sister, but you need to let us do this on our own terms. Buffy might not be ready for a relationship yet and its been a long time since I've been serious with anyone. Not just gonna get married over night or anything. Give it time. See what happens."

"But you'll ask her out," She pressed.

He sighed. This kid just didn't give up, did she? So like her sister. "I'll ask her out."

Dawn flashed him a quick smile. "I knew it! I'll see you around, Spike." She said happily and then jumped out of the car.

Spike sighed and watched her as she went. Somewhere deep inside his heart, a ember of longing flickered into life. He had always wanted a kid sister. Someone he could protect and look after and laugh and joke with and generally spoil and adore. He thought affectionately of the way she had thumped him on the arm when annoyed. Glared at him. Laughed with him. In less than ten minutes she had already wormed her way into his heart.

He played with the keys in the ignition and with a pang of nostalgia for the sister he had never had, he turned to watch make her way up the steps and into school. She skipped up the steps giving the appearance of a cheerful, happy girl. Then she stopped frozen at the top of the steps. A blonde, sitting with two brunette friends, was standing to one side of the path. Spike watched the girl. She popped her bubble gum slowly and cocked her hip assertively. She said something that Spike couldn't hear and Dawn's body language wilted. The blonde slowly crossed her arms, clearly pleased with herself and her comment as her two brunette friends laughed in support, at Dawn.

Memories flashed in Spikes mind. Twelve years old. Lying in muddy puddle getting the shit beat out of him for being poor, nerdy, having glasses. Other kids laughing at him for it. Well, if she thought he was so cool maybe he could help her just a little. He jumped out of the car and bounded up the steps, quickly catching up with Dawn before she slunked off away from the girls.

"Dawn? There you are..." He trailed off, acting as if he had only just noticed they were there. "Not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No. Stacey was just leaving."

He looked at the girl, saw her look him up and down hungrily. His expensive leather biker jacket. His designer jeans and boots. She pouted and thrust her breasts out in a poor copycat pose of a page three girl. He turned back to Dawn, completely ignoring the girl who was clearly the Queen Bee around here. Dawn's arms were crossed and she was frowning. Apparently she wasn't that impressed with his attempt to save face. Why hadn't he made a plan before rashly leaping out of his car to save the damsel in distress? Quickly he tried to think of something. Spike whipped out his cell phone and handed it over to Dawn.

"Need your home number."

Comprehension finally came. Dawn's eyes widened and she relaxed. She needed to save face in front of Stacey and he needed their home number so he could call Buffy – who had called him but not given him her number, apparently. It killed two birds with one stone. He would be able to call Buffy and she could make it look like a totally hot, older guy was interested in her. Even if his interest was really only as a sudo-brother. Buffy might take a while to be persuaded to come around, but at least she could do this small thing to help get them together. She grabbed the phone, tapped her home number in and hit save.

"Thanks, Pet."

Instead of giving it back though she began to rifle through its software looking at all its functions and the range of games it had.

"I can't believe you have this phone," She said. "Its totally cool. Is it even in the shops yet?"

"Don't know. Manager got it for me."

"Cool."

He looked at Dawn. Her thumbs were tapping away, no doubt at some game she had found. As she held it however, it began to vibrate and then began to play a loud, distinctive bass-line intro to a 'Creatures of the Night' song. Dawn blushed guiltily, thinking it was something she had done.

"That's Oz, love. I'd better get it."

"Sorry," Dawn quickly handed over the phone, hoping that he wasn't annoyed with her for playing around with it. Spike wasn't even looking at her. He turned his back and took a few steps away, clearly wanting some privacy. She looked at Stacey.

Stacey was staring at her incredulously that nerdy, penniless Dawn – who lived with her pathetic sister who flipped burgers to pay the bills – knew a hot, wealthy, older guy. Dawn crossed her arms, cocked her hip and smirked smugly. The moment was soon interrupted.

"_That's today?!" _Spike suddenly cried a few feet away. "_Fuck! _Look, I'll get back to LA as soon as I can. Yeah, mate. Yeah, my apartment. Four o'clock."

The call ended. Dawn, still watching Stacey, saw her jaw hang open at the mention of LA and sniggered to herself. The only thing was, Spike had mentioned going back home. Hadn't he just arrived last night, or this morning, or whatever?

"What's going on?" Dawn demanded, as soon as he finished the call.

Spike came back over to her, eyeing Stacey warily. He didn't much feel like sharing, even though she didn't seem to know who he was. "There's a thing in LA tonight that I forgot about. Have to go back as soon as I can."

"But the date!"

"Dawn, I'll be back as soon as I can, I just...I can't get out of this."

"You suck!"

Spike smirked and curled his tongue behind his teeth playfully.

Dawn squealed loudly in disgust and hit him as well, just in case he hadn't gotten the message from the screwed up expression on her face. "Eeeew! Gross!"

Spike chuckled to himself. Internally he admitted it had been a test of sorts. Some girls at fifteen could be quite precocious. Dawn obviously still had a lot of growing up to do and her clear, sibling-like disgust at his playful flirting made the part of him that yearned for a little sister jump up and down with joy while at the same time telling him he really didn't need to worry about her having any serious designs on him.

"Right then. Guess I'll be off. Gonna try and catch Buffy, maybe give her a ride to work."

Dawn snorted. "Yeah, good luck with that."

Spike tilted his head thoughtfully. Once more Dawn was hitting out at her sister and he was beginning to suspect it was something more than Dawn just being grumpy teenager. Buffy didn't take her to school in the morning, Xander did that. Buffy hadn't made her lunch today she must eat the school stuff, and he knew from his own school days that any food provided high school wasn't all that tasty or edible. Buffy had to work full time, so that she was probably not home when Dawn finished and when she did get home she had to look after her son and nurse him and change him.

All in all Dawn couldn't exactly be getting a whole lot of quality time with her sister and couldn't be getting nearly as much free time to spend with Dawn as either of them would like. No wonder things were strained between them that morning. Buffy needed more help with RJ. Being a single mother and working full time was killing her.

Dating was definitely something he wanted to pursue but if going at a relationship the regular way didn't work, maybe dating her wasn't the only way to get in favour with the Summers' girls and win their hearts.

"I'll see you around, Dawn," He told her after a long pause, and impulsively he hugged her. It would look strange to the outside world, but he didn't care about that. She was Dawn. She was special. If he had it his way, she would one day be his sister and he was going to do everything he could to make the difficult lives of her and her sister a little easier.

He felt Dawn hug him back, clutch him, almost desperately, as if he was the embodiment of hope itself and he had to prize her hands away when he finally pulled back, turned around and stalked back to his car.

Without once looking back he slid in, closed the door and started the ignition. He checked his mirrors and saw Dawn being pestered by the blonde girl, Stacey, about him. Dawn was ignoring her though, instead staring after him. Their eyes met in the mirror. Both hopeful. Both reserved. Then she flicked her long hair, drew her shoulders back and pulled her chin up haughtily and the mask was back on. She turned towards Stacey.

"No one," Dawn told the girl mysteriously. "Just this guy."

Then she turned around and stalked off, Stacey and her cohorts chasing after.


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: I wasn't sure when I'd get the next chapter written but then I sat down today and this chapter pretty much wrote itself. Its Spike-centric but I think this chapter is important for Spike's internal disclaimer still applies and as usual its not been beta-read and any remaining mistakes that I haven't noticed are my own.  
_

_Completely unrelated to fanfiction but I just want to say my thoughts and prayers are with the people of Haiti right now. I can't imagine how difficult it is out there. I can only hope that the help that so many countries are sending gets out there quick enough to save as many people as possible._

_Now on with the story..._

Driving along the highway from Sunnydale to Los Angeles, William had his cell phone stuck to his ear as he left yet another message on Buffy's answer phone.

"Look, Buffy, If you're seeing someone I'm not angry." William paused. "Okay, I am, a bit, but only because I thought you would have said something when I said that I like you and you didn't and now...look, I'm just confused, okay? Dawn said Riley wasn't in the picture and Xander was just a friend but that Social Services woman sort of implied...and well..." He sighed. "I just want to know where I stand. That's all. I like you, Buffy Summers or Finn or whatever the bleedin' hell your name is. I'm not bothered about you being a parent. I like your son, and Dawn's sort of growing on me too and as for you, where do I start? You're smart and you're beautiful and..."

The machine beeped at the other end to say that he had reached the end of the message time limit. William glanced at the road and hit redial. After a few rings he got the now familiar answer phone message. "Like I was saying," He continued. "You're smart and beautiful and witty and down to earth and you have the most amazing smile and you take me as I am. I can just be William around you and you're okay with that and I know that's not something that probably makes a lot of sense to you right now because you don't know what my life is like but it means a lot."

He paused to think. He had driven by her house after going to drop Dawn at school but it had been closed up. He had driven around for a while, looking for her as he presumed she would be walking to work but he hadn't seen any sign of her. In the end time had been pressing and he had had to get back on the highway to return to LA. He had agreed to meet Oz that afternoon to get ready for the Charity party this evening and he had to do a bit of shopping before that to find something to wear. Honestly, he didn't see anything wrong with his regular Levi jeans and chain-store t-shirts but the record company wanted him in glad rags. He'd gotten a call just as he left Sunnydale with a long list of designers he was supposed to trawl through on Rodeo Drive to find the right, designer, jeans and t-shirt.

The whole thing seemed like a complete farce to him. The most important fashion item of the night as far as he was concerned was to remember to bring his sunglasses because of all the paparazzi he expected to be there. He had half thought of inviting Buffy along for some company. Someone to keep him sane. On second thoughts however, even if he'd been able to persuade her, he didn't want her first date with him to be right in the media spotlight.

"It means a hell of a lot. So just call me, okay? And if you're not ready for proper dates then maybe we could just hang out as friends for a bit. Do something. Shopping or go for a meal or just take a drive somewhere. You said you liked having another adult around and I can afford childcare if that's a problem – not that I'm implying..." William sighed again. "I'm not saying you need my help. I'm just saying I don't _mind _helping, or paying someone to take them for a while if it means we get a chance to hang out for a bit. Get to know each other. Or if you want them with us that's okay too. We could take the kids out for a picnic or to the zoo or the beach or something..."

Beeeeep.

William swore and hit redial again. Stupid machine with its short message time! He nodded impatiently as the same electronic message travelled down the phone to his ear.

"Hi, yeah, me again. So, like I was saying, we can take the kids or sort childcare but if you do want someone to spend some time with, without the kids around - give yourself a break, you know – maybe I could be that someone...and it doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to...and I know you're touchy about the whole money thing and I'm not trying to be some knight in shiny armour riding in and saving you and showering you in money. Its not like that. I just want to spend some time with you and I don't mind forking out for the privilege, whether that's travel costs or beer money or a fancy meal or movie tickets..." He sighed again. "What I'm trying to say is, I want to spend some time with you and usually getting to know someone and doing stuff with them costs money but that doesn't mean its _about _the money. Its not. It never has been. I'm not in a band to get rich and famous, I'm in a band cause I like making music. The money's just a bonus. In fact, I sort of _like_ it that my money doesn't impress you. You have no idea how many women have tried to date me just to get their hands on my wallet – but I know you're not like that. Which is another reason I like you, and..." William stopped and scrubbed a hand over his tired face. He was spending more brain energy on the phone call than the road and as tired as he was that wasn't a good idea. "I'm waffling, aren't I? I should probably go. Just call me. Please?"

William sighed and hung up. It was difficult to force himself not to beg. Had it only been last night that he had been driving hell for leather the other way along this road, away from LA? It seemed a lot longer than that. A Twelve hour reprieve from the insanity of Los Angeles.

An hour and a half later he tiredly pulled into his apartment's underground parking lot. There were a few guys in camera jackets hanging out across the road. They had glanced at him, but not taken photographs. Waiting for something juicier later no doubt. He wasn't the only potential photo-op living in this apartment complex.

It seemed a long walk up from the parking lot to his apartment. The half-empty parking lot that always seemed too quiet, reminding him of gangster movies instead of giving him the security he knew he should feel in the private complex. The elevator on the way up was expensively furnished in the corporate style. Glass, polished steel, a mirror and Italian leather. Over-designed flat, steel, round buttons that faded seamlessly into the elevator wall let him choose his apartment floor. The expensive look suited the image of 'Spike'. The famous musician. The sort of place people would expect him to live in. It seemed empty now though. Fake. A front. Too clean, too polished, too perfect.

Cold.

His apartment when he got to it was the same as it had always been. The same as when he had left it. He had walked through his front door a thousand and one times but never before had he really _looked _at the apartment he was entering in the same way that he had done today.

White walls. Black furniture. Red leather highlights. The same, polished steel theme as the elevator continued in the kitchen, going well with the black cupboard doors and units. The expensive, chrome-fronted refrigerator. Six ring cooker, chef-style. Spotlessly clean due to the cleaners that came in twice a week to scour the place and change the beds. The glass wall that gave him a perfect view over Los Angeles to the sea never seemed to be dirty he realised, or have children's finger prints on it. There were no crumbs down the back of the black leather sofa. He barely even used the blasted thing it was so uncomfortable. But it looked good. Wasn't that what was important? He could imagine Dawn and RJ would love a swimming pool. One of those big blue ones made in the shape of dolphin or a turtle or something that you saw on on the holiday brochures, but that would be too childish. Too family friendly. The pool on the roof wasn't for playing in it was for 'proper' swimming – one of those long narrow ones for doing lengths in the morning surrounded and a few deck chairs and potted plants for the residents to work on their tans.

He looked around the place and thought of RJ. He would bang his head on the sharp corner of the glass coffee table, no doubt. Play with the plugs which were not child-proofed. Slip and hurt himself on the cold, Italian-style tiled floor. It might make his apartment look more like a modern, Italian-designer, Tuscan villa but it wouldn't be sympathetic to a tot who slipped and fell as he learned to crawl or walk.

No privacy either. Kitchen, dining room and living room all shared one large open-plan room. The short hallway to one side lead to the only private rooms there were – a large master bedroom, a guest bedroom with twin beds and an over-large bathroom with all sorts of fancy bath and shower gadgets that he never used. Blokes were supposed to like gadgets, weren't they? Was that the only reason he had them? Had forked out all the money for such a fancy apartment that, after leaving the Summers' house, now looked cold and sterile like a modern hotel suite instead of a home. He thought of Buffy's battered but amazingly comfortable couch that he had slept soundlessly on. The toys littering her floor. The piles of laundry in various states of being sorted or folded or waiting for ironing.

He wandered through to the master bedroom and dumped his bag. The bed was huge. Huge and comfortable. Enough for five people, never mind just him. So why did he sleep alone every night? Why have such a huge, comfortable bed when he almost never had anyone over? It had come with the apartment, that was why. He didn't even like the style of it. He hated sleigh beds.

This wasn't his apartment. He hadn't picked out the furniture or the fittings. He hadn't decorated it or picked out so much as the bedding. Not the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom, the living room. Not even the art work on he walls. This was some expensive, well-paid architect's apartment. He just paid ridiculous sums of money to sleep here and have people wait on him hand and foot. Put the laundry down the chute and it appeared, perfectly laundered no more than two days later. Central heating. Air conditioning. Cleaning services. Caterers on speed-dial. When was the last time he had used the washing machine? Looked at paint samples? Thought about which couch or bed best suited him? Everything was done for him, he realised, and he had sleep walked into it. He had let jerks at the record company tell him that this is the contract he should have. He had let estate agents and architects and advisers tell him what he should want from a complex or an apartment or what he should wear as a rich, single man. He had let other people take over his life and he had the audacity to complain that he didn't have any control when he was the one who had given it all away.

Yes, he had _given it away, _he realised, without any sort of fight. He had nodded his head and signed papers and handed over cash for years now, and why? Was it any wonder models and actresses thought they could twist him around their finger and screw him for cash when half the city, he realised, had been doing it for years now without him noticing?

William closed his eyes and thought of his mum and Giles' home back in England and its faded elegance of by-gone days. The tattered old sofas in the room they used as a living room. The cracked Tiffany lamp from the 1930's that some ancestor had brought back from a trip to New York. It wasn't thrown out though, simply because it had a flaw. It was kept in its valued place and every time his mum and Giles looked at it they shared a cheeky smirk, remembering some incident naughty incident that had no doubt led to its being damaged in the first place. Everything in his parents home was there for a reason; because it was loved and had memories attached.

Though starkly different in décor and style, his step-father's home in England and Buffy's home in the Sunnydale suburbs shared the sense of being _home. _They were spaces that were lived in. Loved. Battered and worn and faded and chipped with use. The battle scars of families that had to fight to make and keep lives together. Whether it was the strain of Giles' infertility or his mothers' illness; or Buffy's money troubles and the stress of Social Services on her back. Life threw shit at them and they fought it, every step of the way. Their homes might look like the 'before' picture of a make-over programme but the scars they bore were scars of life and love and family. He'd been sitting around, served hand and foot. The easy life in his perfect, designer apartment, alone in his castle and wondering why he wasn't happy. Waiting.

What if happiness didn't come like that? What if waiting wasn't enough? Maybe happiness was something you had to look for. Fight for.

He flopped down on the bed, exhausted from the late night and early morning and the drive and too much thinking. William lay there for a while in the too-quiet of his apartment, waiting for sleep to come.

It didn't.

He rolled onto his back and reached out for his phone.

It took a long time to connect.

"Giles, residence. Rupert speaking."

"Dad."

Silence on the other end.

"I....you....William?"

"Hey Dad."

"A-are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah, I just...I had a moment and I just wanted to call. Say hello."

"You, uh, you called me..." _'Dad'. _The word hung in the silence between them.

"That okay?"

William heard a sniffle and the sound of Giles' clearing his throat. "You've never said that to me before," Giles said very quietly.

"Thought maybe I could start. If that's alright."

Silence. Giles swallowing a lump in his throat. "Yes, William, its quite alright. In fact, I...should like that. Very much. May I, uh, ask what has brought this change on?"

"Nothing, really. Just thinking about stuff."

"Was it painful?" Giles jested. William didn't take it as a joke.

"In a way. Realised some stuff I didn't like very much."

"Like?"

"I've been, I don't know, _discontent _you might say, for a while now."

"With the record contract."

"Yeah. No. I don't know. Its more than that, its all of it. They say its lonely at the top but you're working so hard getting there you don't see everything you're missing and then when you're at the top and you're alone you still don't realise it cause you're surrounded by yet more work and when you're not doing that you're attending parties and spending money and everyone's telling you this is what you should want. Its not until you go out and see the real world that you realise what you're missing. Not being able to make new friends. Not being able to meet people and be myself. Not being happy with my apartment. Not able to be your own boss, getting messed about by the record company. Can't even go for a soddin' beer without some bird trying to get in my pants. I know, I know, blokes fantasise about this stuff, but sometimes you just want to go for a beer with your your mates. Or have a night in with your girl cuddling up on the couch you picked out together. I can't do that. Any of it. Can't go out in peace in LA. I can't go out and not get harassed by girls and the only guy I could reasonably go out with is Oz, who spends his whole time trying to stop Verruca from taking enough coke to kill herself, and if I actually had a girl – or could persuade Buffy to actually date me, which doesn't look like its going to happy any time this century – I couldn't kick back and cuddle up on the couch cause its so bleedin' uncomfortable you'd think its been designed by some torture expert. I didn't even realise it until today. Thought that's what an expensive couch felt like. Did I wonder why it was uncomfortable? No, cause it came with the apartment. Picked by someone else I just presumed must know better than me, cause I'm newly rich and they know about rich stuff, instead of thinking about what I need. As William. I didn't pick it out, it got chosen by someone else for me and I let it happen. I've let it all happen. I've been getting waited on hand and foot here, and It didn't even bleedin' think about it. Letting others rule my life without giving it a second thought. Its no bloody wonder I've been feeling stifled and frustrated. You know I didn't pick out a single soddin' thing in my apartment. Half my wardrobe was picked out by stylists. If I moved back to England tomorrow I'd have about a suitcase worth of stuff I actually wanted to take with me, you know that? My hair, my clothes, my apartment...its all picked out by other people claiming to be 'experts'. Claiming to help me when really they're just lining their own pockets. Its all for 'Spike'. For the image – the mask – the man I prance about on stage as that isn't really me. No soddin' wonder I've been unhappy! They've been boxing me in to be this guy that I play and meanwhile William's screaming to be let out. William just wants to be William for a while. This time yesterday I was thinking its the relentless schedule that's been beating me into the ground. Now I can't help wondering if its the schedule or just having to fight so hard every minute of the day to keep up the pretence. To keep trying to be this 'Spike' guy that everyone thinks I am that I'm not."

"So, what your saying is you've decided that your whole life and everything in it is an expensive charade."

"Something like that."

"Ouch."

"Tell me about it."

"You could come home for a while, you know. I know your mother and I would be very pleased to see you."

"Its not that simple."

"William, I know I'm just your stepfather, but now that this last tour is over it sounds to me like it would do you the world of good to get away for a few weeks and spend some time on yourself. Figure out who you are now and what you want."

"Not sure coming to England's the best way of doing that."

"Oh? I thought you were implying you needed to get away from LA."

"Yeah, but...look, I met this girl."

"Ah. Dare I ask if she is the one inspiring all these deep thoughts?"

"Something like that. I'm worried though. I like her, a lot, but her life is very different to mine. People are going to say stuff."

"Let them say it. You never seemed that bothered before."

"This is different."

"Serious, is it?"

"Not exactly. Just met her if you must know....I just have this feeling, that's all, but its complicated. Her life is complicated."

"Ordinary life usually is, I'm afraid."

"I'm learning that. Look I'd better go. Want to catch a nap before getting ready for tonight."

"Something important?"

"Charity thing. I'd rather make a donation and stay in but the record company read us the riot act just the other day. Best not to chance it."

"Well, good luck then. Your mother and I will be thinking of you."

"Thanks."

"I..." Giles started and then stopped.

"Its alright. You can say it," William said quietly. "I love you too."

"I love you, then – and so does your mother. Call again soon?"

"Soon as I can."

"Goodnight then."

"Bye, Giles."

The two hung up. William put down the phone and flopped back onto his bed, waiting for sleep to come.

The ringing of the doorbell woke him a while later and William swung his legs off the bed and scrubbed his face with his hands, trying to waken himself up. Walking through his apartment to the front door, he found it was Oz as expected, who had his own set of keys to the place.

Oz had a black car hired by the record company for the occasion. It came with a record company stylist who took the somewhat reluctant band mates down town to shop for new clothes for that night. It was a party, but the stylist had no intention of letting them turn up in black ties. It didn't suit their image. Instead the pair spent as little time as possible finding new clothes that would suit their look out of the choices presented to them. Oz settled on a pale long-sleeved t-shirt with an avant-garde wolf emblem on the front, paired with expensive dark-indigo jeans and a new waist-length leather jacket with a mandarin-style collar.

Spike on the other hand picked out ripped jeans that were so palely stonewashed they were almost white, paired with a t-shirt, the arms of which had been ripped off, showing off his muscled arms. The neck had likewise been ripped at the front to show the top of his well-toned pecs and what was left of the top was littered with safety pins and zips that flashed when they caught the light and looked good with the biker boots he wore most of the time anyway.

Before heading off to the party they were dragged to the stylist's favourite salon, who changed Oz's ever-changing hair colour from black to red and gelled Spike's hair into sharp spikes that gave him an assertive, intimidating look. Black eye-liner and designer sunglasses completed their looks and they were given strict instructions to do what was expected, attract just the right amount of attention, mention the record company a few times and deny any rumours connected to the fact that Angel wasn't there with them and they hadn't spoken to their other band member since the tour ended.

Oz and Spike looked at each other as they climbed back into the car. They both knew Angel was on his way out. The record company had fixed them up with the drummer eighteen months ago just before their latest album came out and neither of them liked him very much. His behaviour on tour had only widened the pre-existing rift within the band and Oz and Spike both knew that if the band was going to stay together, Angel had to go. They both knew they had a bad record with drummers. They went through them fairly quickly, but it had been the record company that kept insisting they needed to be a trio in the first place.

William sighed as the car ground to a halt in front of the hotel. He and Oz shared a look, shook hands in solidarity and waited for chauffeur to open the door. He patted the neck of his t-shirt, checking for the glasses he intended to put on as soon as the initial flurry of photographs was over.

The door began to open. "Guess I'd better go first," Spike offered bravely. "Being the lead singer and all that."

"Thanks, man."

It was just a few hours, William reminded himself. He just had to put on the mask and play Spike for a few more hours and then he could return to Sunnydale and explore the 'William' side of himself that had been repressed for so long he had almost forgotten what it felt like to be yourself. The ordinary guy that Buffy knew and thought he was – that she unknowingly gave him permission to be.

Buffy. He thought of her. Her smile. Her fierce eyes when she was angry and the remembrance of her helped him garrison his internal strength.

The door opened. The chauffeur waited. It was now or never.

"Once more unto the breach, dear friend; once more," He muttered to his best and only friend and band mate.

Oz chuckled behind him. Spike moved forwards and stepped out of car door onto the red carpet and the wall of light that assailed him as soon as he appeared, lascivious grin fixed firmly in place.

_Author's Note: The famous 'once more..' quote is from Henry V by William Shakespeare. Like I said, this chapter pretty much wrote itself and I haven't messed about with it too much. Reviews are always appreciated and I do try to respond to all of them - sometimes at greater length than you probably want! I'm verbose. I can't seem to help myself! _


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: Sorry its taken me so long to get this out. I had it mostly done but I wasn't quite sure how to finish it off. Its done now though, and I hope you enjoy it. Any mistakes I've overlooked are my own._

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

When Buffy arrived home from work that afternoon she headed straight home instead of going via Mrs McCluskey's on account of the fact that her arms were laden down with heavy grocery bags. There was a certain art in keeping hold of both of them, one wedged between her leg and the doorpost, the other grasped in her aching arm as she tried to get the key in the lock with the other hand. Finally she wedged the front door open and stumbled inside and through the hallway. Upon arriving in the kitchen she couldn't dump the bags on the worktop quick enough.

Buffy shook her arms which were so sore from carrying the groceries all the way back from town that she felt sure they were going to drop off from the effort. Today had been pay day and as usual the groceries had taken a good chunk of her wage packet. There wouldn't be enough to cover all the bills, but she could pay the telephone bill, which was more overdue. The electrical bill needed paid too, but she wouldn't get a final reminder for another month yet and she could pay something towards it with next week's wages.

Yet Buffy knew it couldn't go on forever. Sooner or later Dawn was going to need new clothes for school and RJ was going to be moving onto solid food which was going to send their grocery bill up and it was going to be a choice of family or bills and family always came first. Sooner or later the telephone was going to have to be sacrificed along with all the other things she'd been gradually cutting out over the last year or so to scrape together what savings they could. Dawn was banned from buying soda from the vending machine at school. Buffy had cut out chocolate bars and the newspaper subscription. Her mother's car had been declared off the road and now languished in the garage so they didn't have to pay tax on it, or pay for gas. Even getting the bus was avoided if there was a generous friend to provide a ride or it was within an hour's walk of the house. It added up, of course it did, but they were all life's little luxuries, slowly cut out over time to pay for doctor's appointments or diapers or Dawn's stationary and school clothes.

Still, Buffy struggled to keep their heads above water. Once the telephone was cut off there wasn't going to be a whole lot more to cut out. Her only hope was the application she had secretly dropped into the 'head office' mail behind her manager's back.

An application for the management programme, with her manager's signature forged since Buffy knew the old crone would never support her application.

After giving her muscles a few moments to recover, Buffy went upstairs to shower and change and then came back down to put the groceries away. She was just putting the last things in the refrigerator when there was a knock on the front door.

"Its open!"

"Mrs Finn?"

Buffy gasped. RJ! Mrs McCluskey! How could she have forgotten?

She rushed to meet her elderly neighbour as the lady came in the front door with RJ in her arms, his day bag slung over one shoulder. Buffy took it at once and began fussing over both of them as if to make up for her massive oversight.

"Mrs McCluskey, I am _so_ sorry. My arms were full of groceries and then I went for a shower by which time I'd completely forgotten I still had to come by!"

"That's quite alright. The little fella was missing his mum, that's all. Say, how do you feel about having some adult company for a while? Its been too long since we've had ourselves a nice long chat and I have to say Mrs Finn, you're looking exhausted again! Why don't I put the kettle on and you can sit down and get him fed and then you can tell me all about that nice young man I saw stay over last night."

Buffy opened her mouth to protest but Mrs McCluskey was already wandering through to the kitchen. It appeared that on this particular day, as on many particular days, there was no arguing with Mrs McCluskey.

* * *

In Los Angeles meanwhile Spike found he wasn't coping very well being back in the limelight. The party was set in the grounds of a huge house in one of the most expensive parts of the city. The lighting was perfect, the buffet was delectable and the swimming pool would have looked more than inviting if it weren't for the masses of people and press swarming around. It had been too long since he'd been to one of these parties. He hated being on tour, skipping from airport to airport and hotel to hotel but at least there were barriers between him and the press. Doors. Curtains. Locks. Here they milled around everywhere with their cameras and their microphones, catching people unawares as they made a detour to the bar, or snapping him with a frown on his face from halfway across the garden.

It made Spike self-conscious so he did what he always did when he felt self-conscious: smiled depravedly at the female reporter trying to catch him and when the dolled-up young lady blushed and started acting all flustered he kissed her innocently on the cheek and then skipped on by having successfully avoided another interview.

They always sent the pretty ones who fancied him, hoping to catch his eye. They were all shallow though. Even as he played along smiling and making faces and making the odd suggestive touch to a bare back here or a waist there, part of his mind was on Buffy Summers back in Sunnydale and wondering if she would call him and another part of his mind was on Oz who was standing at the other end of the swimming pool with his phone stuck to his ear as he argued with Verruca who had promised to come with him and had then spectacularly failed to show up.

Spike snagged a glass of champagne and tried to slink out of the way for a few minutes. Spotting a stray couch that seemed to still be empty, probably on account of Oz pacing testily nearby, he headed straight for it and picked up a second glass of champagne on the way for his band mate.

He collapsed onto the soft seat and got a nod from Oz who looked pretty fed up at this point and that was saying something, considering how stoic Oz was most of the time.

"Verruca, I can't help you if you don't want to help yourself..."

Oz paused and came over to Spike who handed him the second glass of champagne. "Thanks man."

Verruca's tinny voice could be heard tearfully declaring how much she loved him and how she would stop the coke if that was what he wanted.

"No. You have to decide if you want this."

More tearful wailing followed by several, increasing desperate declarations of love as Oz failed to respond as Verruca expected.

"Get clean, V. We'll talk when you're clean," And with that Oz hung up the phone and crashed down on the sofa beside Spike.

"William..." Oz sighed heavily. William looked at his friend. Oz wanted to be here about as much as he did and sometimes, even after knowing each other for years, William knew he failed to consider his bandmate as much as he should. He was so quiet most of the time it was easy to see him as a comforting, constant friend and forget he had his own troubles.

"Bad?" William asked simply.

Oz nodded. "I called her sister, just in case. That's was her calling back to yell at me."

"For calling her sister?"

Oz nodded.

"You think she'll OD again?" Spike asked with concern. He and Oz had both stayed clear of the white stuff, preferring more liquid pleasures, like their good friend Jack Daniels but Verruca, the former lead singer of a former popular all-girl rock band had descended into the drug culture that flowed through much of the higher echelons of LA. This last tour had been particularly bad and twice while WereWolves were stuck halfway across America, the band's managers got calls from

"Don't know man. But I drew the line, like you said. She goes to rehab or we're over."

Spike whistled. "God, Oz. We do pick 'em, don't we?"

Oz frowned. "'We'? You got a girl giving you trouble, Will?"

"The blonde. Buffy. Green eyes. That 7Eleven we stopped at before LA. Keep trying to ask her out but I can't et a bloomin' straight answer out of her! But I have to show you that town, Oz. Its like Pleasantville, or something. A bit rundown these days but its..." Spike sighed and shook his head, and then grinned. "You know I actually slept on the sofa. Haven't done that since we were students; and Buffy has this little kid, RJ. His Dad's not around from what I figure and he's just a little baby but he's so bloody cute. He just sits there and grins and chews his fingers and Buffy's house its so...I don't know...there are chips on the paint and scrapes on the walls. I mean do you ever see stuff like that at all of those clinically clean hotels we get booked at? And the sofa's definitely seen better days but its like none of it matters. _That _is how real people live. Ordinary people. I'm telling you, there was an ironing basket just sitting there in the corner of the living room and little piles of folded baby-grows and towels lying around. Just think, when was the last time you saw an actual ironing basket? Back I was in college, I think. Bloody hell, that's nearly a decade since I've done laundry!"

"Uh huh..."

"Right, right, you think I'm off my head."

"I'm just a little...confused."

"There are no press there, Oz. No paparazzi. No hacks hanging out across the road and you know people actually _walk _there? You can nip out for a cup of coffee and be back in ten minutes without having to spend half an hour on the freeway."

Oz raised his eyebrows at that. It was true, most residents of Los Angeles seemed to waste away their lives on the freeway trying to get around the sprawling metropolis.

"And there's a beach just five miles out of town. Haven't checked it out yet but it looks pretty remote."

"We should go," Oz gave his verdict.

"Yeah."

"William..."

"Stop calling me that. Someone will hear!"

"Sorry, man. You're just acting like William."

"I know. Not much in the mood for the charade tonight. Take off the mask for a couple of weeks and its hard to put it on again sometimes."

"Well I'm just giving you a heads up cause there's a whole bunch of girls coming this way."

"Maybe we could just tell them to..." But Spike didn't get to finish his sentence.

"Hey guys," One of the girls interrupted him and there were three others with her, all clad in skimpy outfits that left little to the imagination. Eye candy, hired by the organisers to look good and make the celebrities look like they were having a good time in front of the cameras. Before Spike or Oz could object a girl had sat in each of their laps and the other two draped themselves across the back of the couch and played with their hair suggestively.

"Having a good time, boys?" The girl in Spike's lap ground herself against him. A few flashes went off a short distance away. He wanted to push her off but the memory of the record company executives' sharp words about 'maintaining the image of the band' popped up in his head. Oz caught his eye and he could see the same thought going through the shorter man's head. Put up with it for long enough to allow the paparazzi to get their shots and then leave for the bar or better, for home. Spike winced internally but forced himself to laugh and grin at her. "I think that could be arranged..." He whispered huskily, feeling slightly nauseous at the thought of her expecting him to follow up on that suggestion later and knew he had to get out of here before she started pressing for anything sexual.

"You know, I've always had a kink for guys who play guitars," The one playing with Oz's hair said loudly.

Across the pool a few more cameras flashed.

"Oz," Spike spoke to his bandmate behind a false grin. "Do we really have to do this."

"Record company. Publicity. Contract." Oz muttered.

"Give it twenty minutes and we'll take a detour to the bar," Spike replied, draining his champagne glass.

"Oh, I don't think that will be necessary," The forth girl said, reaching behind the couch to produce a bottle champagne. Where the hell had that come from, Spike wondered? But then the girl was popping the bottle and her friends giggled at being showered in bubbles and Spike and Oz laughed along because there were cameras pointed their way and all publicity was good publicity, right? It was all about the image of the band, or something like that. They had to play the bad boys. Give the press their stories to keep the album hovering in the middle of the charts.

Spike hoped Buffy wasn't watching MTV tonight because he was sure their camera had just turned their way from across the pool.

Then their champagne glasses were filled again and Spike knew he needed a drink so he drank and then drank the refill as the girls passed around the bottle knowing it would make him tipsy and the show, the front, the false laughs and smiles and the flirting would come more easily and he would forget that his heart wasn't in it.

* * *

"Okay, we have popcorn, we have sodas, we have chocolate chip cookies and we have two movies to choose from on account of the fact that I got paid today and can actually afford the rental!"

"Hey Xander," Buffy smiled at her friend on the other side of the door and stepped aside to let him in. "Hey Anya."

"We can't stay past ten o'clock or I won't have enough time for orgasms and beauty sleep," Xander's girlfriend declared.

"Thank you, Anya. I'm sure Buffy was just dying to know that!"

"Actually I was sort of going to chase you guys out about then anyway. RJ's been waking up early in the mornings and I want to get my eight hours tonight."

On the porch Willow and Tara were just arriving and the redhead's face wilted even as she invited herself into the house.

"Ten o'clock?" Willow pouted in disappointment. "But that's only three hours away. What if the second movie is long and we can't finish it?"

"I'm sure Xander will let you take them home with you if you want, so long as you return them on time. In fact, you guys could have just had this at Will and Tara's place."

"And not have the Buffster present? Our guru and pack leader? If _you_ hadn't suggested the only thing I was good for was carrying stuff about I wouldn't have been in construction and then I wouldn't have been able to afford to move out of my parents' basement."

"Well as much as I love chatting to you guys this is movie night and this pack leader says sit down and put the movie on!"

Buffy stepped back and watched as Xander dragged Anya and Willow through to the kitchen to set up the nibbles and soda. Shy, dependable Tara lagged behind, closing the door carefully as everyone else moved away from it.

"Hey, Tara. Its really good to see you," Buffy greeted her and for the first time in what seemed like a long time the smile on her face was actually genuine.

"You too, but, uh, Buffy...I sort of noticed your mail hadn't been collected and, well..."

Tara handed over the bundle of bills. The one on top was from the telephone company. Final reminder.

"Dammit! I'm going to have to cancel it. Pay off what I can this week and the rest of it later in the month."

"Are things really that bad? M-maybe Willow and I could h-help?"

"No, Tara, you guys are both racking up the debt doing postgrad stuff down at UCS and Xander might be boasting about the promotion but just last week he came to me worried about the cost of the wedding. I appreciate the offer, really, but you guys can't spare anything any more than I can. I'll get by. It'll be okay. I even applied for the management scheme at work," Buffy continued as they wandered through into the living room as Xander, Anya and Willow returned with the snacks all neatly set out on bowls and plates and in glasses.

"I thought your manager refused to submit your application."

"He did. I went over his head."

A mischievous smile pulled at the corner of Tara's mouth and it made Buffy's mood lighten. For the next two hours she was going to forget all about phone bills and school clothes and dirty nappies and be 'girly best friend' Buffy. She looked around the room at all her friends lying sprawled around the softly lit room. Coats and handbags mixed with bowls of popcorn and candy and cans of soda and laughter rang around as Xander shared a particularly funny anecdote from work that day and she tried to feel cheered by the scene. Whatever else was going on in her life, it was good to share time with friends, wasn't it? Even if her friends weren't that great at helping her with all the stuff she was going through. 'She's _Buffy, _she'll be fine,' seemed to be the mantra that ran through their heads. She would cope, she would get by, wouldn't she? Independent, determined, stubborn, strong. Buffy always coped. Buffy always scraped through. Buffy always found a way.

No pressure.

Almost as soon as it came, Buffy suppressed the rebellious thoughts. So her friends weren't always that on the ball. They were busy with their own lives, that was all. This night was supposed to be all about friends. Dawn was in her room. RJ was down for, if not the night, maybe the first half of the night before he woke up needing his night feed.

"Hey why isn't the television on?"

"The remote isn't working," Xander started.

"And we're too lazy to get up," Anya finished.

Buffy paused for a second and tried to compose herself. She would not get angry with them. She wouldn't. After a short pause she went to the television and turned it on manually, without making a fuss about it. At least outwardly. "Movie?" She asked.

Tara at least seemed to sense her mood and got up to bring the movie over to her with an apologetic smile the others couldn't see. In the long minute between the television being switched on and the movie getting into Buffy's hand the television screen came to life with loud music and an annoying end-of-commercials announcement that they were watching MTV.

"_Hello and welcome back to MTV Live at this year's annual Charity Party, raising money for music projects all across the US. At five thousand pounds a ticket this party is _very _exclusive gathering and we have a lot of exciting guests with us here tonight. The champagne is flowing, the music is pumping and we are ready to party. We're bringing you live interviews and performances right here on MTV..."_

"Oh, look. Isn't that Oz? Remember him?" Xander asked Willow and pointed to the screen. Everyone stared. Behind the reporter, in the background, two guys dressed like punk rockers were sprawled on a couch surrounded by writhing nearly-naked girls clad only in bikinis.

"Oz?" Tara asked. To be honest she was more interested by the girls than the guys but the way Xander had said his name made her curious.

"The short one with coloured hair. He was my second boyfriend," Willow supplied. "I dumped Xander for Oz when Xander broke my yellow crayon."

"I tried to tape it back together!" Xander reminded her. "And do I need to remind you he left you and ran away to LA?"

Anya, Buffy and Tara shared confused look that did not go unnoticed by Willow and Xander.

"It was pre-school," Willow confessed.

"Daniel Ozbourne," Xander expanded. "He was in pre-school with us but his parents moved to LA just before kindergarten started. Wow, that's weird. He looks exactly the same!"

"Yeah, but what's he doing at some MTV party?"

"_We're going to have all the big acts her tonight but first the warm-up acts. These guys having a good time behind me are Daniel and William, better known as Oz and Spike from cult alt-rock band WereWolves. They're not the biggest band around but their fans love them so while we're waiting for the next band to warm up we're gonna play you one of their tunes for you. This single is called 'Vampyre' from their album 'Creatures of the Night' released earlier this year. Call or text the usual number, let us know what you think of it."_

Buffy was frozen, staring at the screen. The guy in the black jeans, half-open red shirt and black leather duster currently gyrating with a female dancer who she supposed was supposed to be some sort of vamp ho. A female dancer he had clearly slept with. Somehow between the look in the woman's eye and the movement of their hips that didn't involve much acting, Buffy knew.

"She so slept with him!" Anya declared, which pretty much sealed the deal.

Quickly Buffy shoved the movie in the machine, tapping her fingers anxiously as he made a 'V' with his first two fingers and wiggled his tongue between them suggestively, making another one of the dancers giggle. Disgusted, Buffy couldn't wait until the screen finally went blue and then light up with the 'Fox Searchlight' logo as the movie started.

She moved away from the television and took her seat but as everyone settled into the movie Buffy snorted angrily. I'm in a band, he'd said. Moderately successful, he'd said.

She clenched her fist and tried to remain impassive as the tiny spark of hope in her heart shattered into a thousand pieces. It had all been a lie. The bashful boy-next-door politeness. The playing with RJ. The listening and pretending to take an interest in her and her life and her family. Had he really thought she would fall for it?

Then again hadn't she done just that? Drank in the nice guy act because she had wanted it. Had dared to hope that a handsome, well-dressed, sexy Englishman would actually be interested in a tired, over-worked, stressed-out single mother like her. What had he been thinking? Had it been about seducing her? Making her feel sexy and beautiful just to get her into bed so he could move onto the next one – and there seemed to be plenty of them, judging by the girls draped over him tonight. Or had it been more than that? Sleep around with the dancers and models her worked with in LA during the week and have a cushy domestic sudo-wife-and-kids hanging on a string for the occasional respite weekend? Well she had been there before with Parker, a guy putting on a good act to get what he wanted only to dump her when he had gotten what he wanted.

And wasn't that just what William had done? Use a razor once and throw it in the trash. Need a clean t-shirt? Forget figuring out a washing machine, just throw the dirty one away and buy a new one. Always more where that came from, right? Well not this time. William could forget it. Just as soon as she gave him a piece of her mind!


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Note: I want to say something about the William/Spike thing in this fic. I realise I might be confusing people and I don't want to do that so here's a little attempt at an explanation of what is in my mind. Read the chapter first and then see my Author's Note at the end._

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

_

* * *

_

"_I just want to know where I stand. That's all. I like you, Buffy Summers or Finn or whatever the bleedin' hell your name is. I'm not bothered about you being a parent. I like your son, and Dawn's sort of growing on me too and as for you, where do I start? You're smart and you're beautiful and..."_

**Beep.** "Message three." **Beep.**

"Oh you have got to be kidding me! Not another one." Buffy muttered aloud.

"_Like I was saying. You're smart and beautiful and witty and down to earth..."_

"I think its sweet!" Dawn declared with a grin and skipped past her to sit on the stairs.

"Shouldn't you, I don't know, study or something."

"_We could take the kids out for a picnic or to the zoo or the beach or something..." _

"Ooooh," Dawn squealed excitedly. "The _Zoo! _RJ would so love the zoo!"

**Beep. **"Message four." **Beep.**

"Yeah, right," Buffy burst her bubble. "Like that's ever going to happen."

"_Hi, yeah, me again. So, like I was saying, we can take the kids or sort childcare but if you do want someone to spend some time with without the kids around – give yourself a break, you know – maybe I could be that someone...and it doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to..."_

"Oh, he is so totally in love with you."

"Dawn! Homework! Now!"

"Everyone knows they only say it doesn't have to mean anything if it actually totally means everything!" Dawn continued excitedly. "And when you get married RJ can be ring bearer and you can dress him up in a cute little sailor suit and-"

"Dawn! _Homework! Now!" _Buffy ground out between gritted teeth, "Or so help me you'll be on diaper duty for a month."

"Geez! I'm leaving! Threatening me with RJ's diapers is like, _way _below the belt. You could nuke North Korea with those things!"

Buffy opened her mouth again but Dawn was already gone, skipping up the last few stairs with a cheeky smirk on her face. Buffy frowned. Sometimes her sister was just mean.

"_I'm waffling, aren't I? I should probably go. Just call me. Please?"_

**Beep **"Message five," **Beep.**

"_Hello, I'm looking for a Mrs Finn, I'm calling regarding your telephone bill. If you could call me back on this number as soon as possible thank you."_

**Beep. **"Message six," **Beep.**

"_Mrs Finn, this is the IRS. I'm calling regarding an overpayment we made to you last month. You erroneously received an extra twenty dollars due to a computer error. We'll be contacting you soon by mail. As its a small amount we're willing to deal with it informally, if you could just complete the postal order we're sending to you and-"_

**Beep.**

Buffy switched the machine off. Like she had an extra twenty dollars lying around! That was a whole morning's work! If things carried on like this she was going to lose the house, and what would happen to Dawn and RJ then? Something had to give.

But what?

~ o0o ~

"I just don't get him!" Buffy complained to Willow the following day. "When I met him at the service station he was this loud, brash, self-confident jerk and then when he came here he was all thoughtful and sweet. I'm so confused." Buffy searched for her front door key as she spoke and Willow made sympathetic noises as she bounced RJ trying to content him while keep him back from his mother who was trying to find the door key so she could let them both inside the Summers' house.

"Really, Buffy. I think you're looking too much into this. You like him, he likes you. Its worth a shot isn't it?"

"How do you know? How do you know he's not just playing nice to suck up to me? He left these messages on my machine, rambling on about how much he liked me and...and yet I can't get over the fact that I switched on the television the other night only to see him living the high life, half-naked girls draped over him," Buffy sighed. "I've been messed around too much by too many men to make any sense of what's going on. I just don't feel like I know him, you know. I like him, more than I should. And now I feel like it was all just a lie to make me like him."

A short while late after the last of William's messages finished Willow pointedly ignored Buffy's 'See? There!' look and quietly sipped her tea.

"So?" Buffy asked, demanding affirmation of her position from her best friend.

"He sounds nice."

"Willow...!"

"Okay so he has this whole, macho, public persona thing but William – he's nice. He likes you and he's loaded. I'm not really seeing the problem here, Buffy."

Buffy remained silent.

"Look, one date. Give him that and see if you like him. It wouldn't hurt, would it?"

It wasn't quite three am this time but the following morning as RJ began to wake up Buffy dialled William's number, having no idea that he had been out again the night before, if only to Oz's place to have a serious discussion about the band. She tucked the phone under her ear as she went to get RJ and listened to the rings at the other end. RJ was none too happy at waking up to discover he was lying on dirty nappy and started wailing at the top of his lungs just a a bleary, hungover William answered at the other end. When William let out a horrified cry at the other end of the phone, Buffy cuddled her screaming son to her body and carried him over to changing table.

"William! Its Buffy!" Buffy exclaimed with great enthusiasm down the speaker phone as she laid RJ down to be changed.

William let out a long groan. "Argh! My head!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I wake you up?" Buffy apologised down the phone.

"The noise! My head!!"

"Sorry, you're on speaker phone. I'm just changing RJ. I'm sorry about the noise, he'll settle down in a minute as soon as he's changed. I just wanted to call and see how you were doing," Buffy chattered away and she efficiently went about changing her son. "I hope you don't mind. I figured since you don't have set work hours that you'd be around, right? I thought I'd try and catch you before I left for work."

"Bloody hell! Its like, three am or something!"

Buffy secured RJ's clean diaper and he was finally starting to settle down to 'I'm hungry whimpers' which she would see to in just a minute. "Seven, actually," Buffy replied. "Just a minute, I have to go wash my hands." She picked up RJ and put him back in his crib then wandered out of RJ's room and to the bathroom to wash her hands.

"I feel sick..." William groaned again down the phone. Then there was the sound of rapid bare-footed footsteps and as Buffy came back in there was the tell-tale sound of someone throwing up echoing down the phone when she went to pick it up.

"Oh, let me guess. Out partying again last night? Tell me, how many nearly-naked girls draped themselves all over you _last _night? More than at the party? Or less?"

At the other end of the phone William wiped his mouth and tried to remember what had happened last night. Why would Buffy be so cruel as to wake him up at this ungodly hour when he had such an awful hangover? Then it came to him: two nights ago. The party, the girls, the television cameras and the fervent wishing that Buffy was doing anything other than watching television.

"You saw, didn't you? The party? I'm really sorry about that. The record company set us up. If I'd known I wouldn't have gone. It'll never happen again, I promise."

"You mean the randy naked girls draped all over you and Oz? Where you two were drowning yourselves in alcohol? I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about _Spike_?"

William winced at Buffy's sharp, angry tone that grated with his pounding headache. The bitter taste of stale alcohol and stomach acid mixed in his mouth and he spit into the sink, trying to get the taste out of his mouth. "The record company likes the band to have this stupid 'bad boy' image. Oz and I only put up with it for long enough for a few paparazzi to get their shots. It didn't mean anything, I didn't fuck any of them and I came home alone."

"Right. 'Cause you looked like you were having a _terrible _time!"

"Buffy, believe it or not I want a bit more out of a girl than being treated as some bit of meat on a stud farm. Yeah, a couple of years ago I might have taken one or two of them home with me but I'm not that guy anymore and lets get one thing straight, yeah? Might have been a player in my time, but I was always free and single. I don't cheat. If it was up to me I wouldn't have allowed it but until Oz and I get our next album out the record company has us by the balls and we have to go through with all this stupid stuff to make them happy. It doesn't mean anything. It...it doesn't change how I feel about you. If I offended you somehow I'm sorry, just let me make it up to you."

Buffy wanted to ask if he'd fucked the lead dancer on his 'Vampyre' music video but she decided not to push her luck. One chance, Willow had said. That was all he was getting. Buffy finished changing RJ and sat down, settling him at her breast. On her end of the phone Buffy leaned against the back of the chair situated just inside the doorway of RJ's room and stared at the set of corner shelves next to RJ's crib. Riley's cap, photograph, his medals and the flag from his coffin were set on each of the shelves, carefully dusted and arranged for RJ's viewing. Next to them her son lay in his crib every night and wriggled his hands and feet for attention from the unmoving image of the father he would never know.

Buffy looked at her son. His harsh cries had quietened now that his dirty diaper had been changed and only the quiet whimpering of the hunger in his belly remained that soon quietened when he latched on.

She just had to remain sensible about this. One date, that was all, just to prove that it could never work. Besides, its wasn't like William was all that special anyway, right? His cornflower blue eyes were like a hundred other guys, Buffy was sure – she just hadn't met any of them yet...and his toned body wasn't anything to write home about and hey, every guy smiled at RJ like a doting father and listened as she waffled on about baby troubles. Right?

"William..." Buffy spoke aloud. Then another part of her mind snapped into action. What was she thinking even contemplating starting something with William? Hadn't she learned anything from Riley? "Look this really goes against my better judgement but...Dawn heard the messages and...well she told my best friend Willow and she somehow got me to promise to give you a chance. One though, that's all. What you said was," Buffy took in a breath and sighed. "It was sweet of you but I can't deal with naked girls draping themselves over you here there and everywhere."

"Whatever you need, I'll do it, Buffy. I can't lose you from my life when I've only just found you."

"Oh God, William... why do you always have to do this?"

"Do what?"

"Be nice to me."

"I like you. Course I'm nice to you. How's RJ? And you know, that was cruel waking me up like that! What was wrong with him?"

"Dirty diaper. I just, I hate the you I see when you're on stage. Spike is brash and rude and he swears all the time and he sleeps around and doesn't care about anyone but himself...but then I talk to you and you apologise and you sound contrite and you ask after my family and...who is real William? How am I supposed to know?"

"You know, Buffy. You do. Because I'm only like this around you. I've been putting on the 'Spike' character so long I almost forgot what it feels like just to be William. Its like, when you're this big star on stage, the rest of your life is eclipsed by what happens in that few hours on stage and I let that happen. I let Spike take over my life but you've made me realise that's not who I am. I'm sorry if you have a problem with Spike, but it is just an act, I realise that now. I'm not Spike, I'm William and I want a life as William that's separate from Spike – that's not eclipsed by my life on stage. You made me want that." He said and then groaned. "God, that was a cheesy line. I blame it on the drink and oh! How my head hurts!"

Buffy chuckled. "Flattery? Just how much did you drink last night?"

"No idea. Oz and I brought the party home after the end of the posh thing. Think he's passed out on my incredibly uncomfortable couch right now."

"So you brought someone home last night and didn't tell me?" Buffy teased.

"HaHa. Sorry to burst your happy little fantasy but Oz and I aren't like that."

Buffy chuckled, "Party pooper."

William smiled, in spite of his headache. "So does this mean you're not mad anymore?"

"Oh I'm still mad," Buffy assured him.

"Oh."

"And I'm really not sure I trust you enough to start a relationship with you."

At the other end of the phone William's shoulders sagged.

"But I promised my friend Willow I'd give you one date and maybe if you're willing to start out as friends and see where it goes you could try and win me around by say, taking us all to the beach on Sunday. I have a day off."

"Okay, yeah. That sounds good."

"And I want a picnic."

"Consider it done."

"With strawberries!" She added.

William chuckled warmly. "I'll see what I can do."

The moment William hung up the phone he decided that enough was enough. Buffy's words about the girls had been enough to spur him on. Last night he'd ranted wildly, driven by too much Scotch and had made audacious claims about freeing the band from the suffocating yoke of their commercial contract. Well now he was sober and after hearing Buffy talk about seeing him at the party he decided once and for all that the record company could go to hell. If it took a court order, paying them off or something else, he had had damned well enough of jumping through their hoops like a trained dog. Hungover and still feeling very much the worse for wear, Spike got up anyway, showered and made coffee to wake himself up.

Afterwards he woke Oz and the friends had a quiet hangover breakfast together before Spike agreed to drive Oz home and they made their way downstairs together to the parking garage and climbed into his old Desoto. It was earlier than he was usually up, but the sun was already high in the sky and there was enough traffic as he headed up to Oz's villa in the Hollywood hills to add an extra half hour to his journey.

As he drove, the bright sunlight shining down on his pale arm and the wind blowing in the open window, William thought about the changes he was making in his life. For starters, he was now determined to have one. The money, he had always thought, had never meant very much to him but he realised now that he had maybe given it more importance than he realised. Money was convenient but more than than, it was status. He was no longer the scrawny bullied kid, he was somebody – but he'd let other people tell him that the only way to get on top and stay on top was to be the star all of the time. Live for it. Let your life revolve around it until all you had was an empty phone book and a bunch of expensive, meaningless possessions with no one to share it with. How long had it been since he'd made time to visit his family? How long since he'd made the effort to make friends and keep them – apart from Oz. William had realised a long time ago that he was unhappy with his life but he was only realising now that the main thing wrong with William's life was that William didn't have a life. Spike had a life, and William had let everything else fall to the way side.

It wouldn't be easy making the changes he wanted. It would mean taking on the record company so that he no longer lived his life by their rules. It would mean learning to leave Spike on stage and life for other things outside of that and it would mean winning over Buffy, who was in a difficult position herself and was looking out for herself and her young family. Taking on the record company would be tough too and potentially very expensive. If it came down to paying back the company back the income they'd received from the contract, he would at least still get his share of the royalties from the first two album sales and he could get enough money from interviews and appearances to get him through until he and Oz got a new album completed. It was getting Oz on board that he was nervous about. They had already agreed that Angel had to go, being more aligned to the sympathies of the record company than the creative needs of the band, not to mention the fact that neither he nor Oz could stand the man. Nevertheless this was a whole other step.

Still, William twitched nervously as he pulled up in Oz's gravel drive, knowing he couldn't put off what he wanted to say any longer.

"I want to take them to court," He said quietly.

"Court?"

"Court."

"About the contract?"

"Yeah."

"You want to take the Record Company to court?"

"That's what I said. I'm not playing their game anymore. I want out of the contract. I want us to do a third album when we're ready to do a third album and I want us to have full creative control _and_ full control of our own publicity. None of this 'they say jump, we ask how high' stuff. Oz, you're my best mate in all the world but I can't go on like this. I need out and I can't do it without you."

"Ok."

"I understand its gonna be difficult. Law might not be on our side and I doubt the press will be when they find out or next album will be delayed and that we've sacked another drummer but I really think-"

"I said okay, Will," Oz repeated quietly.

"What?"

"Okay."

"Okay? You're in?"

"Yeah, man. I'm in."

"Right then. Guess I'd better find us a lawyer."

* * *

_Author's Note: I recently heard an anecdote from a theatre actor. He was actually quite a shy guy, but he said he could play these crazy characters and run around stage doing all this crazy stuff because in his mind it is not him doing these things, it is the character doing those things. This is what is in my mind when it comes to William and Spike. William is actually a bit shy and unsure of himself in person. In canon he is a wallflower, without the confidence or ability to deal with being the centre of attention. In this story William has found a way of dealing with the attention he receives by creating the character of 'Spike' whom he can play in public. 'Spike' is everything that he isn't – confident, arrogant, lewd and brash but it it isn't William who behaves like this, it is the character 'Spike'._

_The problem is that while a bit of Spike has rubbed off on William and my William isn't quite so painfully shy as canon!William, he is still isolated by Spike because of the way the record company exploits the 'Spike' persona. The public persona, 'Spike' is pushed so much by the record company that nothing else in William's life can really compete. William has been sidelined so much he doesn't really know who he is anymore. William lets 'Spike' become his life and so all his other friends and family have slipped from his life so that now he doesn't really have anyone that he can just be himself around which only makes the problem worse. Until he meets Buffy and she accepts him without question, but likes William more and Spike less and in this way he realises that in order to get what he wants in terms of a private life, he has to be able to turn things around and isolate 'Spike' and this means taking on the record company._

_I hope that makes a bit more sense now._


End file.
